In a field of wildflowers, a young dandelion named Della looked at the garden across the fence. There, among the manicured beds, grew roses—tall, red, and fragrant. Bees swarmed around them. Children stopped to smell them. People took photographs.
"No one stops to look at me," Della sighed. "I'm just a weed."
She stretched her yellow petals, trying to look more like a rose. She stood as tall as she could. She even tried to make her scent sweeter. But nothing worked.
A wise old sunflower overheard her. "Why do you want to be a rose?" he asked.
"Because they're loved," Della said.