“Our people do not acquire their real life until they leave their bushes,” said the Prince. “You will notice they are all attached to the plants by the soles of their feet, and when they are quite ripe they are easily separated from the stems and at once attain the powers of motion and speech. So while they grow they cannot be said to really live, and they must be picked before they can become good citizens.”

“How long do you live, after you are picked?” asked Dorothy.

“That depends upon the care we take of ourselves,” he replied. “If we keep cool and moist, and meet with no accidents, we often live for five years. I’ve been picked over six years, but our family is known to be especially long lived.”

“Do you eat?” asked the boy.

“Eat! No, indeed. We are quite solid inside our bodies, and have no need to eat, any more than does a potato.”

“But the potatoes sometimes sprout,” said Zeb.