"But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them."
"Yes, indeed, I did."
"They can't be mine, if I'm not to touch them."
"If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are not
yours, and never, never can be yours. They are nobody's when they
are dead."
"But you don't kill them."
"I don't pull them; I throw them away. I live them."
"How is it that you make them grow?"
"I say, 'You darling!' and throw it away and there it is."
"Where do you get them?"
"In my lap."
"I wish you would let me throw one away."
"Have you got any in your lap? Let me see."
"No; I have none."
"Then you can't throw one away, if you haven't got one."
"You are mocking me!" cried the princess.
"I am not mocking you," said the child, looking her full in the
face, with reproach in her large blue eyes.
"Oh, that's where the flowers come from!" said the princess to
herself, the moment she saw them, hardly knowing what she meant.
Then the child rose as if hurt, and quickly threw away all the
flowers she had in her lap, but one by one, and without any sign of
anger.
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