THE WEDDING OF A ROSE

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIV, Issue 293, 10 December 1943, Page 3

THE WEDDING OF A ROSE

(By DORIS SMITH) The morning dawned bright and fair, just the loveliest day for the wedding of a rose, with the faintest breeze waiting the perfumes of the flowers. Ever since the announcement of the rose's engagement there had been excitement, but now everyone was bubbling over with it. The bride was full of joy at being about to marry the princely gentleman rose. She had chosen as her bridesmaid a beautiful white carnation, who, on this wedding morning, dressed in her very best snowy-white petals and creamy yellow stamens. The bride dressed carefully, brushing her stamens tenderly. She had bathed in the dew of the morning—the most delightful of baths for a bride. She put on her most charming robe of pale pink petals, taking care not to get flustered, for then it would have been red. It had been made specially for to-day; the preparation had taken days. She had the sweetest perfume of all. I think her fairy godmother must have mixed it for her. Now we shall leave the bride while we lake a peep at the bridegroom—a very handsome rose, dressed in his best suit of cream petals. The manuka in attendance saw that it fitted perfectly. They pruned his thorns and trimmed his leaves well. He was waiting in the church, a clearing in the forest. It was a fairy-dell the night before. This morning poppies nodded in the soft breeze and pohutukawa and manuka were waiting gracefully about the clematis-twined altar. Flax grew by the stream, which ran across a corner of the clearing, while ferns and pungas crowded everywhere. The best man was a well-groomed white rose. The parson was a till, spick and span in a shining velvety blue-green costume and the whitest collar a tui has ever worn. Everybody was waiting, the flower and bird musicians with their daffodil trumpets, ready to begin their melody for the bride and groom, when in rushed a breathless daisy messenger, who panted: "You will have to postpone the wedding!" A silence fell upon the gathering so that one might have heard the tiniest petal flutter to the moss-carpeted earth. The daisy was almost afraid to go on. "The bride is ill. She turned very pale while dressing, and trembled so much that her maid was afraid she was dying. A phvsician had been sent for and another messenger . is to bring further news."' What a disappointment! Everyone, birds and flowers alike, sat down and cried. The tui sat on his branch-pulpit looking as though he wanted to fall off rather than stay on. Suddenly the trumpets blared; the musicians played "Here Comes the Bride' ! The guests were so surprised that they sat still. Then everyone sprang up. Another daisy messenger'explained that a mistake had'been made—that it had been another: rose bride who had taken ill, and she would be well again to-morrow and could be married. Everyone was so happy that, after the ceremony, they sang "The Wedding of a Rose." 'The newly-wedded roses are still very happy, and it did not matter wnen the' bride blushed red :