When she finished she picked up a trailing vine of moonseed.
"You have this on the porch," she said.

"I think it is lovely.

There is no end to the beautiful combinations of leaves, and these are such pretty little grape-like clusters; but if you touch them the slightest you soil the wonderful surface." "And that makes the fairies very sad," said the Harvester.

"They love that vine best of any, because they paint its fruit with the most care.
'Bloom' the scientists call it.

You see it on cultivated plums, grapes, and apples, but never in any such perfection as on moonseed and black haws in the woods.