Fungi of exquisite yellows and browns were popping up all about the wood.

He gathered some of the most delicate, and put them into the fresh small hands.
"But, Daddy, I mustn't eat them, must I ?" "No, dear--they are too beautiful to eat.

You must just look at them and love them, like flowers." "But they are not flowers, Daddy.

They don't smell like flowers.

I would rather have flowers, Daddy." "But there are no flowers till next year.