90 LITTLE PIPES 



" What is it," I asked, as he put it in his mouth. 



" It's a May Apple," he answered, " and has 

 about the best taste of anything that grows this 

 month." 



I thought that the next time I found one I 

 would try it myself. 



The other new flowers we have had since Sallie 

 went away. Tommy calls " Pipes," because their 

 real name is Naked Broom-rape and that isn't 

 half as like them as Pipes. When we hold them 

 up lengthwise of the stem they look as if they 

 might be used for smoking. This would not be 

 by real people, of course, but by little woodland 

 folk that perhaps know the flowers, and have ears 

 sharp enough to hear them talking. 



There are no leaves on these Pipes, and this 

 seems strange, as leaves are one of the things 

 flowers usually have. A sort of roughness grows 

 along their stems, and these, like the flowers, 

 are faintly blue. The Pipes grow down in the 

 grass of the woods, and soft, wet places, just as 

 though they were timid about peeping out too far. 



Those that Tommy saw first this May were 

 brothers and sisters, I think, in the same Pipe 

 family, for four of them stood up together like 

 steps. There were also buds among them, striv- 

 ing to reach as high as the others. I could only 

 feel sure they were real flowers and not make- 

 believes, when the little one turned its full face. 

 They remind Tommy of the Indian Pipe, or Ghost 



