Mrs. Williams loved flowers and had a small but beautiful garden. In the summer, her roses were always the best on her street.
One summer afternoon, her doorbell rang. When she answered the front door, she saw a small boy outside. He was about seven years old and was holding a big bunch of beautiful roses.
"I'm selling roses," he said. "Would you like some? They're quite cheap—only five pence for a big bunch. They're fresh; I picked them this afternoon."
"My boy," Mrs. Williams replied, "I pick roses from my garden whenever I want and don't pay a thing for them, because I have plenty right here."
"Oh, no, you don't," said the small boy. "There aren't any roses in your garden—because they're all here in my hand!"