I was riding through the forest one day when I heard strange birds singing. I had never heard such tiny, sweet songs. Who could possibly be making that shower of sound?
I came close to the place, tied my horse to a tree, and followed the sound to a girl who was chopping wood. She wore a wreath of pink rosebuds, and the wreath was singing! I stood under the shelter for some time before I gathered the courage to approach her.
Hat in hand, I stepped up to her and said, “Fair maiden, who are you and where did you get that wreath of singing roses?”