The proud foxglove
źródło: https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk
There was once a foxglove growing in a clearing in a wood among a lot of other foxgloves.
It was a rather fine and strong one, and soon grew taller than all the rest.
And because it was so tall and fine it became proud. "I am the most beautiful flower in the whole wood," it used to say. "No other can come near me."
It grew so proud that at last it wouldn't even speak to the others, and so they didn't try to grow big, but preferred to remain small, so that they could all be comfortable and happy together, and not see too much of their haughty neighbour.
It grew taller and taller. People passing through the wood often stopped to look at it and said: "Have you ever seen such a beauty?"
And this, of course, made it prouder than ever.
Soon after this it happened that the fairies and gnomes were holding their evening revels in that part of the forest.
Suddenly, it began to rain. "Come! Come!" called out the foxgloves. "Creep into our bells. There is a nice little room for each of you to shelter in, and we will sway you to sleep by-and-by."
Only the proud foxglove said nothing. It thought itself far too fine to give shelter to anybody.
The fairies all crept gladly into the other foxglove bells, but the little gnomes were anxious. "A big storm is coming on," they said. "The owl told us. How shall we make the fairies safe?"
They ran into the forest and gathered up broken twigs, and these they stuck into the ground round each foxglove where the fairies were housed, tying the flowers to the supports with ropes.
The wind howled all night, but the fairies slept sweetly in their little pink rooms, swaying lightly in the storm.
They woke up next morning to find the skies blue and the whole forest shining in the sun. But the proud foxglove lay flat on the ground. The wind had caught his high head and his back was broken.
P.S. I found the full version of the story here:
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