"Rosaura! Rosaura!"
If you were tall enough, you might have seen a little splash of red in the tall grass. And if you had looked closer you might have seen a small girl wearing a red ribbon.
Rosaura was hiding from her mother and father. It was her favourite game. She crouched quietly, listening to the faint sound of her mother's voice. All Rosaura could see were the swaying green stalks of the corn. They rustled above her head where the sky stretched clear and blue. Suddenly, a bright yellow butterfly darted by. Rosaura jumped up to chase the butterfly, for- getting all about her hiding game.
"Rosaura! There you are," called her mother. "It's time for lunch."
It was dark and cool in the cottage where Rosaura lived with her parents. Rosaura ate her meal quickly. She wanted to go back into the sunshine to play. As soon as she had finished her food she slipped down from her chair.
"Rosaura, where are you going?" called her mother.
She caught a glimpse of Rosaura's red ribbon disappearing around the door. But Rosaura was already through the gate, and heading for the fields. "Rosaura! Rosaura!"
Was that the sound of her mother calling, or the wind whispering in the corn? Rosaura was not sure. All day long through the hot summers she loved to run in the fields. Her feet were scratched and her toes bruised on stones as she chased after the mice hiding in the corn stalks. Her skin was brown as a nut from the sun. In her tangled black hair, her red ribbon fluttered.
The afternoon stretched out long and hot. As the sun reached the far side of the field, Rosaura's father walked back to the cottage. His eyes scanned the fields for Rosaura's red ribbon. But it was nowhere to be seen.
"Hasn't Rosaura come back yet?" asked her father as he came through the door.
"Not yet," said her mother, "I'm sure she'll be back soon."
But the supper was ready and still there was no sign of Rosaura. Now the sun had set, casting a red glow over the fields. Rosaura's mother and father stood at the door of their cottage, staring over the field, looking for the red ribbon.
"Rosaura! Rosaura!"
Soon the shadows were deep blue in the yard. It was too dark to see the red ribbon now. Rosaura's parents began to walk and call for her in the field. As night fell, they fetched lamp that lit up patches of corn and grass and startled the sleeping mice. But they could find no red ribbon.
Rosaura's parents called and called all through the night. In the dawn, they stood alone and sad amongst the corn. The red morning sun lit up their tired faces.
"Look!" cried Rosaura's mother suddenly. "There she is!"
They began to run towards the red ribbon that she had spotted among the corn. But oh! It wasn't Rosaura's ribbon at all, but the red petals of a flower. Rosaura's mother and father had never seen such a flower before. Her father looked away in disappointment.
"I see her!" he cried.
And again they ran towards the dear red ribbon. But it was another red flower. As the sun came up bright and strong, Rosaura's mother and father looked around the field. It was filled with red flowers swaying and fluttering in the tall grass. Rosaura's mother and father felt so sad.
"Rosaura won't be coming home anymore," said her mother. "She was always happier in the fields."
"But the spirits have left us these flowers to remind us of her," said Rosaura's father.
"They will stay with us!"
Every year, when the corn ripened and the evenings grew long, Rosaura's parents stood at the edge of the fields and watched the red flowers dancing under the sun.
And that, say the Indians, is how the red poppy came to be.
Unknown
