I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla.'Then your...

I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla.
'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.'
'And your own is a white violet, with purple streaks in its heart,' finished Priscilla.