The dandelion did it, that much was certain, but on all other matters, they disagreed. It had been their first tea party, you see, and they had sat as still as Jane Austen's ladies, their pretty little heads cocked just so. They were still quite excited that the girl had picked them, them over the many, sunlit thickets and arbors of other young, beautiful flowers, and their excitement had flushed their petals to the loveliest colors. And imagine their surprise when the girl had knelt down and plucked a common dandelion to place among their ranks, a dandelion with garishly yellow, tiny petals and a thick, dark green stalk that contrasted against their own willowy, spring green stems. But the flowers had kept quiet, comely little ladies in brilliant frocks, quiet as they returned home in the same basket as it, its loud, yellow petals seeming even yellower in the spring sun. Kept quiet as the little girl arranged them around her porcelain tea set, quiet as she began to serve her dolls, talking to them animatedly.

It was nonsense to let its presence ruin their first tea party, they thought, and instead took in how the sunlight reflected off of the crystal and how prettily their smooth petals looked against the Chantilly lace tablecloth, the gold rimmed plates and painted teacups sitting on their coordinating saucers. Everything was going beautifully; they had almost all but forgotten the young little dandelion, and instead whispered with the breeze, how beautiful it all is, they said, how genteel, how sophisticated. One of the precocious young blossoms even attempted a curtsy in the air, no easy task, if you can imagine. But their ladylike pursuits were interrupted.

The dandelion, quite silent 'til then, began to laugh and sing, carry on like she had no breeding at all. But, then again, she didn't have breeding-- she was a dandelion. And though the flowers speak in a pitch that humans can not hear, the little girl, as if she could hear its laughter, picked up the tiny yellow flower and laughed along with it, the sky a beautiful blue and the clouds a beautiful white, spinning, dizzy.

"How beautiful you make life seem, little flower!" the girl said, smiling. "I do so wish you could talk. "
And they laughed and sung, so infectiously that the other flowers had to sing along too, and blushed deeper in shame of their ignorance. But they contented themselves with the sky and the sun, the singing and the laughter, and almost all but forgot about the tea party, with it's crystal and lace, gold rimmed plates and painted teacups; they contented themselves with the world instead of just one single plot of land on it. And it was now, under the blue sky and white clouds, now, that the tea party really began.