Little Ida's Flowers

Little Ida's Flowers is a charming children's story written by Hans Christian Andersen. The book revolves around a young girl named Ida, who wonders why her flowers look tired and wilted. An enchanting tale unfolds when she learns from a student living with her family that flowers can speak, dance and engage in nighttime balls. As Ida falls asleep, she dreams of her flowers engaging in a grand ball. The next day, Ida takes the student's advice on how to revive their strength. This delightful story is filled with whimsy, imagination and beautiful elements of fairy-tale fantasy.

• Children

								
"My poor flowers are quite dead," said little Ida, "they were so
pretty yesterday evening, and now all the leaves are hanging down
quite withered. What do they do that for," she asked, of the student
who sat on the sofa; she liked him very much, he could tell the most
amusing stories, and cut out the prettiest pictures; hearts, and
ladies dancing, castles with doors that opened, as well as flowers; he
was a delightful student. "Why do the flowers look so faded to-day?"
she asked again, and pointed to her nosegay, which was quite withered.

"Don't you know what is the matter with them?" said the student.
"The flowers were at a ball last night, and therefore, it is no wonder
they hang their heads."

"But flowers cannot dance?" cried little Ida.

"Yes indeed, they can," replied the student. "When it grows
dark, and everybody is asleep, they jump about quite merrily. They
have a ball almost every night."

"Can children go to these balls?"

"Yes," said the student, "little daisies and lilies of the
valley."

"Where do the beautiful flowers dance?" asked little Ida.

"Have you not often seen the large castle outside the gates of the
town, where the king lives in summer, and where the beautiful garden
is full of flowers? And have you not fed the swans with bread when
they swam towards you? Well, the flowers have capital balls there,
believe me."

"I was in the garden out there yesterday with my mother," said
Ida, "but all the leaves were off the trees, and there was not a
single flower left. Where are they? I used to see so many in the
summer."

"They are in the castle," replied the student. "You must know that
as soon as the king and all the court are gone into the town, the
flowers run out of the garden into the castle, and you should see
how merry they are. The two most beautiful roses seat themselves on
the throne, and are called the king and queen, then all the red
cockscombs range themselves on each side, and bow, these are the
lords-in-waiting. After that the pretty flowers come in, and there
is a grand ball. The blue violets represent little naval cadets, and
dance with hyacinths and crocuses which they call young ladies. The
tulips and tiger-lilies are the old ladies who sit and watch the
dancing, so that everything may be conducted with order and
propriety."

"But," said little Ida, "is there no one there to hurt the flowers
for dancing in the king's castle?"

"No one knows anything about it," said the student. "The old
steward of the castle, who has to watch there at night, sometimes
comes in; but he carries a great bunch of keys, and as soon as the
flowers hear the keys rattle, they run and hide themselves behind
the long curtains, and stand quite still, just peeping their heads
out. Then the old steward says, 'I smell flowers here,' but he
cannot see them."

"Oh how capital," said little Ida, clapping her hands. "Should I
be able to see these flowers?"

"Yes," said the student, "mind you think of it the next time you
go out, no doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window.
I did so to-day, and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out on
the sofa. She was a court lady."

"Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls?"
asked Ida. "It is such a distance!"

"Oh yes," said the student, "whenever they like, for they can
fly. Have you not seen those beautiful red, white, and yellow
butterflies, that look like flowers? They were flowers once. They have
flown off their stalks into the air, and flap their leaves as if
they were little wings to make them fly. Then, if they behave well,
they obtain permission to fly about during the day, instead of being
obliged to sit still on their stems at home, and so in time their
leaves become real wings. It may be, however, that the flowers in
the Botanical Gardens have never been to the king's palace, and,
therefore, they know nothing of the merry doings at night, which
take place there. I will tell you what to do, and the botanical
professor, who lives close by here, will be so surprised. You know him
very well, do you not? Well, next time you go into his garden, you
must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a grand ball at
the castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they will
fly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professor
walks into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. How
he will wonder what has become of them!"

"But how can one flower tell another? Flowers cannot speak?"

"No, certainly not," replied the student; "but they can make
signs. Have you not often seen that when the wind blows they nod at
one another, and rustle all their green leaves?"

"Can the professor understand the signs?" asked Ida.

"Yes, to be sure he can. He went one morning into his garden,
and saw a stinging nettle making signs with its leaves to a
beautiful red carnation. It was saying, 'You are so pretty, I like you
very much.' But the professor did not approve of such nonsense, so
he clapped his hands on the nettle to stop it. Then the leaves,
which are its fingers, stung him so sharply that he has never ventured
to touch a nettle since."

"Oh how funny!" said Ida, and she laughed.

"How can anyone put such notions into a child's head?" said a
tiresome lawyer, who had come to pay a visit, and sat on the sofa.
He did not like the student, and would grumble when he saw him cutting
out droll or amusing pictures. Sometimes it would be a man hanging
on a gibbet and holding a heart in his hand as if he had been stealing
hearts. Sometimes it was an old witch riding through the air on a
broom and carrying her husband on her nose. But the lawyer did not
like such jokes, and he would say as he had just said, "How can anyone
put such nonsense into a child's head! what absurd fancies there are!"

But to little Ida, all these stories which the student told her
about the flowers, seemed very droll, and she thought over them a
great deal. The flowers did hang their heads, because they had been
dancing all night, and were very tired, and most likely they were ill.
Then she took them into the room where a number of toys lay on a
pretty little table, and the whole of the table drawer besides was
full of beautiful things. Her doll Sophy lay in the doll's bed asleep,
and little Ida said to her, "You must really get up Sophy, and be
content to lie in the drawer to-night; the poor flowers are ill, and
they must lie in your bed, then perhaps they will get well again."
So she took the doll out, who looked quite cross, and said not a
single word, for she was angry at being turned out of her bed. Ida
placed the flowers in the doll's bed, and drew the quilt over them.
Then she told them to lie quite still and be good, while she made some
tea for them, so that they might be quite well and able to get up
the next morning. And she drew the curtains close round the little
bed, so that the sun might not shine in their eyes. During the whole
evening she could not help thinking of what the student had told

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