the burdock still stood pondering. she was thick-headed and that was why she took so long. but, in the evening, a hare jumped over the hedge:

"hide me! save me!" he cried. "farmer's trust is after me."

"creep round behind the hedge," said the burdock; "then i'll hide you."

"you don't look to me as if you were cut out for that job," said the hare; "but beggars can't be choosers."

and then he hid behind the hedge.

"now, in return, you might take some of my seeds to the fields with you," said the burdock; and she broke off some of her many burs and scattered them over the hare.

soon after, trust came running along the hedge.

"here's the dog!" whispered the burdock; and, with a bound, the hare leapt over the hedge into the rye.

"have you seen the hare?" asked trust. "i can see that i'm too old for hunting. one of my eyes is quite blind and my nose can no longer find the scent."

"i have seen him," replied the burdock, "and, if you will do me a service, i will show you where he is."

trust agreed and the burdock struck some of her burs in his back and said:

"would you just rub yourself against the stile here, inside the field? but that's not where you're to look for the hare, for i saw him run to the wood a little while ago."

trust carried the burs to the field and ran off into the wood.

"so now i've got my seeds settled," said the burdock and laughed to herself contentedly. "but goodness knows how the thistle is going to manage and the dandelion and the bell-flower and the poppy!"

next spring, already, the rye was standing quite high:

"we are very well off, considering all things," said the rye-stalks. "here we are in a great company that contains none but our own good family. and we don't hamper one another in the very least. it's really an excellent thing to be in the service of men."

but, one fine day, a number of little poppies and thistles and dandelions and burdocks and bell-flowers stuck their heads up above the ground in the midst of the luxuriant rye.

"what's the meaning of this now?" asked the rye. "how in the world did you get here?"

and the poppy looked at the bell-flower and asked:

"how did you get here?"

and the thistle looked at the burdock and asked:

"how on earth did you get here?"

they were all equally surprised and it was some time before they had done explaining. but the rye was the angriest and, when she had heard all about trust and the hare and the wind, she was quite furious:

"thank goodness that the farmer shot the hare in the autumn," said she. "trust, luckily, is dead too, the old scamp! so i have no further quarrel with them. but how dare the wind carry the seed of the weeds on to the farmer's land!"

"softly, softly, you green rye!" said the wind, who had been lying behind the hedge and had heard all this. "i ask no one's leave, but do as i please; and now i'm going to make you bow before me."

then he blew over the young rye so that the thin stalks swayed to and fro:

"you see," he said, "the farmer looks after his rye, for that is his business. but the rain and the sun and i interest ourselves in all of you alike, without distinction of persons. to us the poor weeds are quite as attractive as the rich corn."

now the farmer came out to look at his rye and, when he saw the weeds that stood in the fields, he was vexed and scratched his head and began to scold in his turn:

"that's that dirty wind," he said to jens and ole, who stood beside him with their hands in the pockets of their new trousers.

but the wind dashed up and blew off the hats of all three of them and trundled them ever so far away. the farmer and his boys ran after them, but the wind was the quicker. at last, he rolled the hats into the pond; and the farmer and his boys had to stand ever so long and fish for them before they got them out.