The Proud Little Grain of Wheat

There once was a little grain of wheat which was very proud indeed. The
first thing it remembered was being very much crowded and jostled by a
great many other grains of wheat, all living in the same sack in the
granary. It was quite dark in the sack, and no one could move about, and
so there was nothing to be done but to sit still and talk and think. The
proud little grain of wheat talked a great deal, but did not think quite
so much, while its next neighbour thought a great deal and only talked
when it was asked questions it could answer. It used to say that when it
thought a great deal it could remember things which it seemed to have
heard a long time ago.

"What is the use of our staying here so long doing nothing, and never
being seen by anybody?" the proud little grain once asked.

"I don't know," the learned grain replied. "I don't know the answer to
that. Ask me another."

"Why can't I sing like the birds that build their nests in the roof? I
should like to sing, instead of sitting here in the dark."

"Because you have no voice," said the learned grain.

This was a very good answer indeed.

"Why didn't someone give me a voice, then--why didn't they?" said the
proud little grain, getting very cross.

The learned grain thought for several minutes.

"There might be two answers to that," she said at last. "One might be
that nobody had a voice to spare, and the other might be that you have
nowhere to put one if it were given to you."

"Everybody is better off than I am," said the proud little grain. "The
birds can fly and sing, the children can play and shout. I am sure I can
get no rest for their shouting and playing. There are two little boys who
make enough noise to deafen the whole sackful of us."

"Ah! I know them," said the learned grain. "And it's true they are noisy.
Their names are Lionel and Vivian. There is a thin place in the side of
the sack, through which I can see them. I would rather stay where I am
than have to do all they do. They have long yellow hair, and when they
stand on their heads the straw sticks in it and they look very curious. I
heard a strange thing through listening to them the other day."

"What was it?" asked the proud grain.

"They were playing in the straw, and someone came in to them--it was a
lady who had brought them something on a plate. They began to dance and
shout: 'It's cake! It's cake! Nice little mamma for bringing us cake.'
And then they each sat down with a piece and began to take great bites
out of it. I shuddered to think of it afterward."

"Why?"