"Each flower assumed that fragrance it felt best described it. Some flowers, like the roses, believed they were extremely beautiful, so they adopted scents that were delightful. Others thought they were ugly, like the geraniums, so they took unpleasant smells. It didn't matter whether they really were beautiful or ugly, only how they thought of themselves, and some had an unrealistic view of the matter. Some were bold and had strong smells, while others were very shy and had little or no fragrance, though a person looking at them might have thought they deserved more. Thus it was that though some fragrances were not very accurate, at least they helped define the flowers and distinguished one from another.

"So it was that Lily at last came to appreciate the flowers, and could tell the rose from the daisy without touching them; and she was happy, and the flowers were happy, and even Melpomene was less tragic. Ever since then, flowers have had different smells, so that anyone can know them by either sight or scent."

There was a silence as Jenny finished her story. Then Gwenny spoke. "Oh, Jenny, I wish I could see that! I think that must be why flowers have fragrance, but if only I could see Willow and Lily."

"I believe you can," Che said. "If Jenny will sing for you."

"Oh, I couldn't!" Jenny said, abashed.

"Then sing for me," he said, "and Gwenny can ignore us."

Jenny understood what he meant, and knew that it was right. She nerved herself and looked at him, for she knew she could sing for him. She knew that though he had suggested it for the goblin girl, he really wanted it for himself, for he was still a foal and a captive deep in the mountain; and no matter how educated he seemed, he was afraid inside.

She hummed a little, and the room slowly faded out. Then she sang, and there was the field of flowers and the mountain of the Muses in the background and Willow holding her baby Lily, the tears on her face. Her hair spread out around and behind her like a soft cape, the way Godiva's did. Indeed, she looked a lot like the Lady Godiva, caring so much for her daughter but helpless to give her the thing she lacked.

Then the baby turned, and Jenny knew it was Gwendolyn, though the name was different here. Gwenny was in the scene!

In the background a centaur appeared, watching but not interfering. Che was here too, now. Near him was a sleeping orange cat.

Time passed in an instant, as it could in a dream or a vision, and the baby grew to look a lot like the goblin girl, but she still could not see. But the flowers changed for her, and assumed their fragrances, and the girl came to know them and was thrilled.