Someday Sam will have a crowd of daughters, all of them named after flowers, same as his wife - though of course he has no way of knowing it now. For now, he has just the pile of crowns strewn over the floor around them, which he picks up and sets down one by one, admiring them each in turn.

"Well, if you're offering," he says, pleased. "Though I'd be much obliged if you'd pick one out for me. You being the craftsman, and all."