NDER one guise or another 
the fickle goddess Fortuna would 
seem to have established her in- 
fallible interpreters or mediators. 
The lovelorn maiden with the 
daisy, its petals falling beneath 
her questioning finger -tips to 
the alternate refrain, " He loves 
me. He loves me not," is a sac- 
rificial episode in the life of the 
daisy wherever it grows. 
The still younger maiden with 
her dandelion ball, whose feath- 
ered parachutes must be dislodged upon the breeze 
with three puffs from her little puckered mouth, 
with all sorts of fate depending upon the odd 
or even number of the remnant seeds, is as uni- 
versal as the dandelion itself, while the more 
homely symbols of wish-bone, horseshoe, or horse- 
