I live in a big house in Garden Street. It has such a name because everyone has a garden. My name is Jane.
This story happened one spring day.
I got up early in the morning, I washed myself and I went out in the street. The air was fresh and the grass was dewy: The garden of Mrs. Brown was wonderfully beautiful. I stared at it. All the flowers of the garden looked as if they were shining and smiling sparkling in the sun. Suddenly I saw Mrs. Brown who was washing and watering her flowers in the morning in order to make them sparkle.