中文(简体)
Queen of the Flowers
A great white marble column had fallen to the ground and lay there broken in three pieces, but between these the most lovely white flowers grew.
The swallow flew down with Thumbelisa and put her upon one of the broad leaves;
what was her astonishment to find a little man in the middle of the flower, as bright and transparent as if he had been made of glass.
He had a lovely golden crown upon his head and the most beautiful bright wings upon his shoulders;
he was no bigger than Thumbelisa.
He was the angel of the flowers.
There was a similar little man or woman in every flower, but he was the king of them all.
"Heavens, how beautiful he is," whispered Thumbelisa to the swallow.
The little prince was quite frightened by the swallow, for it was a perfect giant of a bird to him, he who was so small and delicate,
but when he saw Thumbelisa he was delighted;
she was the very prettiest girl he had ever seen.
He therefore took the golden crown off his own head and placed it on hers,
and asked her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she would be queen of the flowers!
Yes, he was certainly a very different kind of husband from the toad's son, or the mole with his black velvet coat.
So she accepted the beautiful prince, and out of every flower stepped a little lady or a gentleman so lovely that it was a pleasure to look at them.
Each one brought a gift to Thumbelisa, but the best of all was a pair of pretty wings from a large white fly;
they were fastened on to her back, and then she too could fly from flower to flower.
All was then delight and happiness, but the swallow sat alone in his nest and sang to them as well as he could, for his heart was heavy,
he was so fond of Thumbelisa himself, and would have wished never to part from her.
"You shall not be called Thumbelisa," said the angel of the flower to her; "that is such an ugly name, and you are so pretty. We will call you May."
"Goodbye, goodbye," said the swallow, and flew away again from the warm countries, far away back to Denmark;
there he had a little nest above the window where the man lived who wrote this story,
and he sang his "tweet, tweet," to the man, and so we have the whole story.
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