But he drew the dark mantle closer over his breast and answered coldly , -- `` I can not grant your prayer , little Fairy ; it is my will the flowers should die . Go back to your Queen , and tell her that I can not yield my power to please these foolish flowers . '' Then Violet hung the wreath above the throne , and with weary foot went forth again , out into the cold , dark gardens , and still the golden shadows followed her , and wherever they fell , flowers bloomed and green leaves rustled . Then came the Frost-Spirits , and beneath their cold wings the flowers died , while the Spirits bore Violet to a low , dark cell , saying as they left her , that their King was angry that she had dared to stay when he had bid her go . So all alone she sat , and sad thoughts of her happy home came back to her , and she wept bitterly . But soon came visions of the gentle flowers dying in their forest homes , and their voices ringing in her ear , imploring her to save them . Then she wept no longer , but patiently awaited what might come . Soon the golden light gleamed faintly through the cell , and she heard little voices calling for help , and high up among the heavy cobwebs hung poor little flies struggling to free themselves , while their cruel enemies sat in their nets , watching their pain . With her wand the Fairy broke the bands that held them , tenderly bound up their broken wings , and healed their wounds ; while they lay in the warm light , and feebly hummed their thanks to their kind deliverer . Then she went to the ugly brown spiders , and in gentle words told them , how in Fairy Land their kindred spun all the elfin cloth , and in return the Fairies gave them food , and then how happily they lived among the green leaves , spinning garments for their neighbors . `` And you too , '' said she , `` shall spin for me , and I will give you better food than helpless insects . You shall live in peace , and spin your delicate threads into a mantle for the stern King ; and I will weave golden threads amid the gray , that when folded over his cold heart gentle thoughts may enter in and make it their home . '' And while she gayly sung , the little weavers spun their silken threads , the flies on glittering wings flew lovingly above her head , and over all the golden light shone softly down . When the Frost-Spirits told their King , he greatly wondered and often stole to look at the sunny little room where friends and enemies worked peacefully together . Still the light grew brighter , and floated out into the cold air , where it hung like bright clouds above the dreary gardens , whence all the Spirits ' power could not drive it ; and green leaves budded on the naked trees , and flowers bloomed ; but the Spirits heaped snow upon them , and they bowed their heads and died . At length the mantle was finished , and amid the gray threads shone golden ones , making it bright ; and she sent it to the King , entreating him to wear it , for it would bring peace and love to dwell within his breast . But he scornfully threw it aside , and bade his Spirits take her to a colder cell , deep in the earth ; and there with harsh words they left her . Still she sang gayly on , and the falling drops kept time so musically , that the King in his cold ice-halls wondered at the low , sweet sounds that came stealing up to him . Thus Violet dwelt , and each day the golden light grew stronger ; and from among the crevices of the rocky walls came troops of little velvet-coated moles , praying that they might listen to the sweet music , and lie in the warm light . `` We lead , '' said they , `` a dreary life in the cold earth ; the flower-roots are dead , and no soft dews descend for us to drink , no little seed or leaf can we find .
Ah , good Fairy , let us be your servants : XXXXX us but a few crumbs of your daily bread , and we will do all in our power to serve you . ''
budded came die give healed ringing rustled sang save wear