Precious things are for those that can prize them.

A Rooster was once strutting up and down the farmyard among the hens when suddenly he espied something shinning amid the straw. "Ho! ho!" quoth he, "that's for me," and soon rooted it out from beneath the straw. What did it turn out to be but a Pearl that by some chance had been lost in the yard? "You may be a treasure," quoth Master Rooster, "to men that prize you, but for me I would rather have a single barley-corn than a peck of pearls."