He was given no rest, until the flowers begged the switches to stop; the flowers who had lain in the doll’s bed felt especially sorry for the little wax doll.

As soon as the switches stopped dancing there came a knocking from the drawer where the doll Sophie lay. The little porcelain man went carefully to the edge of the table, leaned over the side of it, and pulled the drawer open as much as he could—which wasn’t very much. Sophie stuck out her head. “I see there is a ball. Why hasn’t anyone told me about it?”

“Would you like to dance with me?” asked the porcelain man.

“Pooh! You are chipped,” said Sophie, and sat down on the edge of the drawer, with her back to the poor little porcelain man. She thought that one of the flowers would come and ask her to dance, but none of them did. The porcelain man danced by himself and he didn’t dance badly at all.

Since none of the flowers seemed to notice her, Sophie jumped down upon the floor. She landed with a crash and all the flowers came running over to ask her whether she had hurt herself; the flowers who had lain in her bed were especially considerate.

But Sophie hadn’t hurt herself. Little Ida’s flowers thanked her for having been allowed to sleep in her bed, and they told her that they loved her; then they took her out to the middle of the floor, where there was a great splash of moonlight, and danced with her. All of the other flowers made a circle around them, and Sophie was so happy that she told the flowers they could keep her bed, even though she didn’t like sleeping in the drawer.

“Thank you,” the flowers replied. “It is most kind of you, but our life is short. Tomorrow we shall be dead. Tell little Ida to bury us out in the garden where the canary is buried; and next year we shall come to life again and be even more beautiful than we are now.”

“You mustn’t die!” cried the doll, and kissed the flowers.

At that moment the door of the dining room opened and the most beautiful flowers came dancing in. Little Ida could not imagine where they had come from, unless they were the flowers from the park near the king’s castle.

First entered two roses who wore gold crowns. They were the king and the queen. Behind them came the carnations and the lilies, bowing and waving to the other flowers.

There was music. Big poppies and peonies blew on the pods of sweet peas with such vigor that their faces were red. The bluebells tingled. It was a funny orchestra both to watch and to listen to. At last came all the other flowers, dancing: violets, daisies, and lilies of the valley; as they finished their dance, they kissed each other. It was lovely to see.

The flowers said good night to each other, and little Ida climbed back into her little bed and dreamed about everything she had seen.

The next morning when she woke, she ran right over to the doll’s bed to see if the flowers were still there. There they were, but now they were all shriveled and dead. Her doll Sophie was in the drawer; she looked awfully sleepy.

“Can you remember what you are supposed to tell me?” little Ida asked. Sophie didn’t say a word.

“You are not a good doll,” scolded little Ida. “Remember how all the flowers danced with you!” Then she took a paper box that had a lovely picture of a bird on its lid and laid the flowers in it.

“That will be your honorable coffin,” she said. “And when my cousins come from Norway, then we’ll have a funeral and bury you, so you can come again next summer and be more beautiful than you are now.”

The cousins from Norway were two strong boys. Their names were Jonas and Adolph. Their father had given them each a bow and some arrows; and these they had brought along to show little Ida.

She told them about the poor flowers that had died and allowed them to attend the funeral. It was almost a procession. First came the boys with their bows slung over their shoulders, then little Ida, carrying the pretty little paper box.