Wings & Stings, Chapter 1

牋牋牋牋牋One morning in May, Meadow Sip came out of the front door of Hollyhock Hall with a gay little flip and a happy little flutter. Then she stood on the veranda looking across the field with her two far-sighted eyes to where the orchard lay misting in delicate pink and white. Such wonderful, far-seeing eyes had Meadow Sip! Each eye was made up of six thousand three hundred wee, wee eyes, or "facets," and instead of eyelashes she had hairs growing right out of her eyes in the queerest way.
牋牋牋牋牋But when you are flying away up in the air, and there are thousands of babies at home waiting to be fed, and you are in the greatest hurry, and honey must be had, and you have to see the honey blossoms quickly, you need every eye you can possible get. So really, Meadow Sip hadn't one she could spare; and beside all these she had three little near-sighted eyes on the top of her head so she could see what was going on right under her nose when she turned herself upside down to drink.
牋牋牋牋牋Meadow Sip thought, as she looked away toward the orchard with her far-sighted eyes, that it was the most perfect day she had ever seen. The sky was turquois-blue wherever the pearly fluff of the clouds would let it peep through; the morning was warm and pleasant, and there were delicious whiffs of fragrance everywhere.
牋牋牋牋牋Across the road from Hollyhock Hall a wild crab-apple tree was swinging her censers, and oh, the incense she used! Was there ever anything so delicate and sweet? Her perfume so certainly promised of honey that it had lured to her hundreds of Meadow Sip's sisters. But she still needed helpers to carry her pollen, so she swung and swung her rosy cups, and tempted and tempted, although every bough was a-humming and a-buzzing.
牋牋牋牋牋Out of Hollyhock Hall skipped Plum Petal, all a-quiver with life and joy, and sat down by Meadow Sip to make her toilet, for she was the daintiest of bees. First she cleaned her antennae with the little round comb, and the odd brush she carried on the fifth joint of each front leg. Next she brushed her head and delicately combed her eye-hairs. Then she brushed her velvet waist and preened her wings with the prongs she carried on her middle legs, and dusted out her pollen baskets. Last of all she stood on her front legs while with her hind legs she scrubbed and polished every atom of her fuzzy, buzzy little body.
牋牋牋牋牋"There," she said, with a sigh, "I feel better. How do I look, Meadow Sip?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Beautiful," responded Meadow Sip, looking at her sister with her three near-sighted eyes. "There isn't a speck of dust about you. Where are you going this morning, Plum Petal? The crabapple tree uses a delicious perfume, but somehow I long for the orchard."
牋牋牋牋牋"Then come along with me," said Plum Petal. "I began filling my second tier of cells with apple-blossom honey yesterday, so I am going over to the orchard. Here comes Grumble Buzz and Whiffle Whizz. I suppose the lazy things will tag us."
牋牋牋牋牋"I would rather they would than not," laughed Meadow Sip, "for then we shall not have to feed them."
牋牋牋牋牋Grumble Buzz and Whiffle Whiz came out of the hive stretching themselves and lazily rubbing their eyes.
牋牋牋牋牋"Hello, sisters!" said Grumble Buzz when he saw Meadow Sip and Plum Petal. "Wait a bit, and we will fly with you."
牋牋牋牋牋"Much good that will do us," cried Plum Petal, unfolding her four wings and hooking each upper wing to the lower.
牋牋牋牋牋There she was with two beautifully firm wings like a fly. Every bee has a row of hooks upon the lower wing that fits into a groove upon the upper wing. If Plum Petal hadn't hooked her wings together she would have flip-flapped about like a kite without a tail.
牋牋牋牋牋"I just wish you boys would do a little work," she went on, getting ready to fly. "It seems pretty hard that the good queen mother and we girls should do all the work at Holly hock Hall, and support you lazy bees, too. Come on, Meadow Sip; I shan't wait for them."
牋牋牋牋牋 And up and up in spirals sailed Plum Petal and Meadow Sip, and then off they skimmed to the orchard.
牋牋牋牋牋"Bah! I don't care," buzzed Whiffle Whiz, cleaning his antennae with his right front foot. "I wonder how they expect a fellow who was hatched without pollen baskets to fetch and carry."
牋牋牋牋牋"Those girls are always fussing," muttered Grumble Buzz. "One would think that anyone with one eye, not to mention twelve thousand six hundred and three eyes, would see that we are the aristocrats of the hive and were never intended for toil. We are much handsomer than the workers."
牋牋牋牋牋They were handsome fellows. They had large round heads, and two great far-sighted eyes with more than twice as many "facets" as the sisters, eyes so large that they pushed the three little near-sighted eyes right down in the middle of the bees' foreheads, instead of leaving them on the top of their heads where the sisters wore theirs. Their antennae were long and delicate. They had big bodies and large, filmy wings, and they wore soft, brown, fur coats.
牋牋牋牋牋"I don't care what the sisters say," buzzed Whiffle Whiz again. "We haven't any honey sacs, so we can't carry honey; we haven't any pollen baskets, so we can't bring pollen; no wax pockets, so we can't build comb; no stings, so we can't fight, and our tongues are too short and weak for any but the shallowest blossoms. We were hatched so, and I think it is a shame to be down on a fellow for what he can't help."
牋牋牋牋牋"Never mind," advised Grumble Buzz, as he polished off his wings with his hind legs. "Let'em fuss if they want to. Here come Hum Mumble and Mutter Fuzz. How-de-do, fellows? We are going to take a fly to Apple Blossom Inn. Want to come along before the rest of the drones get started?"
牋牋牋牋牋"To be sure," cried Hum Mumble, dusting his velvet knees. "Buckwheat Fluff has promised to show us the very honeyest tree in the orchard. Buckwheat Fluff will let you go, I am sure."
牋牋牋牋牋"Then let's be off," exclaimed Whiffle Whiz, hooking his wings with a click. "Here comes Buckwheat Fluff now."
牋牋牋牋牋Buckwheat Fluff was a very young bee, so young that she had been out of the hive only a few days. Before that she had been one of the nurses, feeding the babies and cuddling close with her sisters as they swarmed over the comb so that their furry bodies might keep the eggs warm in the cells. But now she was free; free to fly in the warm sunshine--but never idle; bless you, no!--busy every moment, but free to fly in the sweet air, and her first thought was to help her brothers.
牋牋牋牋牋"Now hurry up, Drones!" she cried, unfurling her wings. "Sister Locust Whiff has promised to show me how to make wax this afternoon, and she said the first thing was to drink all the honey I could. I ought to be sipping now, so hurry up, boys!"
牋牋牋牋牋Away flew Grumble Buzz, Whiffle Whiz, Hum Mumble, Mutter Fuzz, and kind little Buckwheat Fluff. Up and up, and away toward the hazy orchard. Every wing was going so fast that they buzz-z-z-ed just as when the night wind goes whispering through a knot hole.
牋牋牋牋牋"Here's the tree," called Buckwheat Fluff, gayly, and every gauzy wing stopped buzzing, and down they whisked right into a soft, downy bed of apple blossoms. Such masses of little white cups, tipped with pink, and such clusters of buds all a-blushing! And, oh, the breath of them! And everywhere were bees, big, old, mumbly, grumbly bumbles; slender Italian bees, with five golden stripes; mason bees, carpenter bees, tailor bees, and common little gray-coated fuzzy, buzzy bess. And what a rolling, grumbling, rumbling of busy wings! All the tree was humming.
牋牋牋牋牋In a jiffy Buckwheat Fluff whisked out her brown tongue from the groove under her chin. Such a wonderful tongue! so long, shining, flexible, and strong; as slender as a thread, and decorated with tiny circles of hairs that held fast the honey, and so enabled her to draw it up into her mouth, and with the queerest tip like a little round plate, just the thing for licking. So delicate and marvelous a tongue must be very carefully kept, so Buckwheat Fluff wore it in two sheaths and folded it back when it was not in use. But now she thrust it deep into the honey cups and drank and drank, and instead of filling the little honey sac she had for carrying honey, she swallowed it for good and all, as Locust Whiff had told her. She didn't forget to fill the pollen baskets on her hind legs full to overflowing, nor to pay toll to the apple blossoms, as an honest bee should. Back and forth she flew from blossom to blossom, carrying pollen on her fuzzy head and her long tongue so that the stigmas, waiting and sticky, might drink it up. For Buckwheat Fluff was a wise bee, and she said to herself: "No pollen no apples, no apples no seeds, no seeds no new trees, no trees no blossoms, no blossom no honey, and where would the bees be then?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Oh, Meadow Sip and Plum Petal," she called, as her sisters settled near her among the apple blossoms; "Locust Whiff said we were going to begin making wax in the hive this afternoon. Are you going to help?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Now isn't that just like a young bee?" laughed Plum Petal. "She's all excitement over her new work. How well I remember my first experience in wax-making, and how important I felt. Of course we are going to help, and it is high time we were getting back. Have you eaten all the honey you can hold, Buckwheat Fluff?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Oh, yes," she replied eagerly. "I am so full I can't take another sip, and I am so sleepy."
牋牋牋牋牋"That is just as it should be," said Meadow Sip, "so home we go."
牋牋牋牋牋"Good-by, brothers!" cried Buckwheat Fluff in a drowsy voice to the drones who were drinking honey on the next bough, and then the three sisters flew off to Hollyhock Hall. There were many sister bees hurrying from every direction toward the hive, each bee gorged with honey and heavy with sleep, as gluttons are sure to be.
牋牋牋牋牋"Now," said Locust Whiff to Buckwheat Fluff when she had reached Hollyhock Hall, "in order to make wax we must be perfectly warm and perfectly quiet. See, Meadow Sip has already fastened herself by the hooked toes of her front feet to the top of the hive. Now you hook yourself right beside her, and take hold of her middle foot with your middle foot, and I will come next, and Plum Petal next, and so on, bee after bee until we make a festoon from side to side, as if we were decorating the inside of the hive with garlands of bees; then all you have to do is to go to sleep and see what will happen.
牋牋牋牋牋And what do you think did happen? When Buckwheat Fluff awoke, the eight little pockets she wore on her abdomen were everyone of them filled with wax. In some wonderful way the honey which she had sipped had digested itself and changed into wax that oozed right into her pockets.
牋牋牋牋牋"Look, look!" she cried, to Locust Whiff, who had also awakened with her pockets full of wax. "What shall we do next?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Now take the nippers on your hind legs and pull out the scales of wax," explained Locust Whiff kindly. "Then chew it up daintily, moisten it with saliva until you can pull it into a soft, white ribbon. Then come with me and I will show you how to build."
牋牋牋牋牋And almost before Buckwheat Fluff could realize what she was about, she found herself forming with her sharp claws a six-sided cell, that fitted perfectly into the cell Meadow Sip was building upon one side, and into the one Locust Whiff was building upon the other; there they hung like little pearly jars ready to be filled with honey.
牋牋牋牋牋Now bee-honey is not flower-honey, for when the bees fill their honey sacs full of the nectar of the blossoms a strange change takes place in it, and they pump into the waxen cells something quite different and far more delicious, yet it carries with it the flavor of the blossom it came from. Plum Petal and Meadow Sip knew perfectly the difference between delicate white clover honey and the strong dark honey of the buckwheat blossom, and you and I can tell it quite as readily.
牋牋牋牋牋All cells are not honey jars; some are cradles for babies, little six-sided ones, for the workers, larger ones for the drones, and great thimble-shaped cups for the queen babies.
牋牋牋牋牋There were thousands of babies in Hollyhock Hall, tiny white things without feet or hands, but they had mouths, thank you; hungry mouths that seemed never filled as the little nurses fed them drop by drop. If you were a worker baby you were fed honey and bee-bread; bee-bread is a mixture of honey and pollen, and many cells are filled with it for winter use. Besides bee-bread and honey you were fed a little royal jelly--precious little if you were a worker. The bees manufacture this jelly in a gland in their heads, and it is very nutritious and rich. But if you were a queen baby you would dine on royal jelly every blessed day of your life! Now, this is the strangest of all: if you were a worker baby, and the nurses wanted to change you into a queen, all they had to do was to enlarge your cell before you were four days old, form it into a thimble-shaped cradle, and feed you upon that marvelous jelly, and you would hatch out as royal a queen as ever sat on a bee throne.
牋牋牋牋牋The nurses had a queer way of dealing with their babies, whether worker, drone, or queen. When they thought they had eaten enough they would clap a little cover of wax and bee-glue over the cradle door. Then the baby would get very sleepy and spin itself a little white silk nightgown--that is, it did if it were a drone or a worker; if a queen, it only spun a nightcap and a short jacket. If it waked and found itself a drone, or a worker with fuzzy body and filmy wings, it would bite its way out of its cradle and begin life at once. But if it were a queen it could only pipe and tell them it was awake and wait to see what would come next.
牋牋牋牋牋What a beauty a queen is! Her body is long and slender and tapering, and underneath it is golden yellow. Her wings are short, but of filmy, delicate gauze, and they daintily cross upon her back--this is a true sign of royalty. Her head and far-sighted eyes are small and her tongue short. Unlike the drones she has a sting, but as she uses this also to place her eggs inside the cells, she stings but rarely, for fear she will injure it. The workers never sting a queen. If she is a stranger they sometimes smother her to death by swarming over her, but they never turn their cruel daggers upon her.
牋牋牋牋牋Buckwheat Fluff found the days that followed her waxz-making very busy ones in the hive. There were babies to feed; honey to bring; pollen to gather; bee-bread to make; the queen to attend and to feed; the hive to guard; the drones to see to; wax to manufacture; cells to build; bee-glue to find; empty cells to be cleaned out when babies were through with them, and the hive to ventilate. There seemed never a moment to spare.
牋牋牋牋牋The work Buckwheat Fluff disliked most was the ventilating of the hive. It wasn't any fun to stand with twenty other bees just inside the door and fan with your wings as if you were flying, until you swept in the fresh, sweet air. You got very tired and faint, but it had to be done night and day. You see, bees are fresh air-breathing folk, and there is no other way to ventilate the hive; for if they had a big door and wide open windows all sorts of beetles, moths, and creeping, flying things might come in and steal the honey. So the door is just large enough for bees to guard, and the wings of the little ventilators buzz so faithfully that they keep the air almost as sweet and pure as it is out of doors.
牋牋牋牋牋One day a dreadful thing happened in Hollyhock Hall; at least it seemed dreadful to Buckwheat Fluff, but that was because she was such a very young bee and had not learned that worry never accomplished anything in the wide world. It was this. One morning Queen Honeylinne was laying her eggs--sometimes she laid three thousand in a day--and Buckwheat Fluff was also in attendance, caressing her with her antennae, and circling about with the rest of the maids of honor, when a tiny mouse forced its way past the guards at the entrance, and crept right into the sweet, clean hive.
牋牋牋牋牋"Oh, oh!" buzzed all the young bees in horror. "What shall we do if he gets to the babies?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Attention!" commanded Meadow Sip, who was always calm and who knew just what to do. "Every bee be ready to sting at the order, without an instant's delay!"
牋牋牋牋牋"Now!" came the order, and the mouse was lost in a cloud of whizzing wings. Then came dart after dart of the poisoned lances, and when the cloud arose the mouse lay quite dead upon the floor of the hive.
牋牋牋牋牋"But what now?" cried Buckwheat Fluff, who had so much to learn. "We can never get him through the door, and how can we live with a dead body in the hive?"
牋牋牋牋牋"Some of you fly quickly to the poplar and some to the wild cherry tree," ordered Meadow Sip. "Scrape the glue from the sticky buds and fill your pollen baskets."
牋牋牋牋牋Away flew the bees, but soon darted back, each little basket filled with shiny brown bee-glue. And, would you believe it, Mr. Mouse soon lay there in a shiny, brown sepulcher shut away where he couldn't do any harm.
牋牋牋牋牋Days in Hollyhock Hall showed little difference. All that changed was the flavor of the honey that was stowed away in the six-sided jars. The apple petals fluttered away in a mimic snow-storm one day, but the white clover lifted tiny rosy-tipped honey horns each morning and folded them back against her stems when the bees had sipped the nectar and paid toll in pollen. The wild raspberries hummed from morning until night with millions of buzzing wings, and comb after comb was filled with this, the most delicate of all honeys. The dandelion with her wealth of honey and golden pollen was on the visiting list of Hollyhock Hall, as was the hawthorn, the boneset, the snapdragon, wild rose, larkspur, mignonette, alyssum, and the sunflowers.
牋牋牋牋牋It is for the bees that the blossoms wear their dainty gowns of pink, yellow, scarlet, white, and blue. For them they paint the delicate lines upon their petals as honey guides. For them they breath their perfume and sway upon their stems. They care not a whit for other eyes; they bloom for the bees alone; not for love of the bees, but for love of their own little seed-babies. A plant is, first of all, a mother; she loves her little ones dearly, and she must trust to the bees to bring the fertilizing pollen to her stigma that her babies may have life. So she tempts the bees in every way she can, and as the summer slips away, and blossom after blossom opens in field and meadow, Hollyhock Hall is kept busy; for the bees not only work for themselves, but for the flowers as well.
牋牋牋牋牋Queen Honeylinne, attended by her maids of honor, visited cell after cell in the hive, slipping in her antennae to see if all was well, then cautiously pushing her sting through the door to lay the egg carefully upon the floor. The eggs she was laying these days were drones' eggs, or unfertilized, as she had laid the worker eggs earlier in the season. Day by day, as new babies hatched out, the hive grew more and more crowded, so crowded that although little wings whizzed from morning until morning at the entrance to the hive, the air was hot and close. There were twelve large thimble-shaped cells in the hive, and on these great beautiful cells Meadow Sip and Locust Whiff, aided by many of their sisters, were working. They delicately cut away the wax in waving lines until the cells were so transparent that one could watch every movement of the baby queens within.
牋牋牋牋牋Queen Honeylinne was growing more beautiful and slender every day, and one hot, sunny morning she awoke in a nervous commotion. Meadow Sip, Plum Petal, and Buckwheat Fluff met her walking in the hall, and to Buckwheat Fluff's astonishment, the queen was no longer encircled by her maids of honor, but ran wildly hither and thither. When the bees met her they struck her with their antennae and immediately became as excited as Her Majesty. Meadow Sip so far forgot herself as to mount on the back of the queen and ride off in the giddiest way, and Queen Honeylinne did not seem to mind it a bit. She only stopped to drink honey from the cells instead of from her attendants' mouths, as usual, while her subjects hovered about, exciting the workers upon the comb, until all the hive was in a mad frenzy. Queen Honeylinne grew more and more excited, and no longer deposited her eggs in the cells, but dropped them upon the floor in the most careless fashion. As the bees which had been out honey-gathering returned they, too, became wild, and all rushed to the honey cells and drank deeply from the filled jars. The heat in the hive became more and more unbearable, when suddenly Queen Honeylinne stood perfectly still and there fell a breathless hush upon the hive after that storm of buzzing wings. The scouts who had left the hive had returned to tell of a hollow tree they had found in the woods. The bees were about to swarm.
牋牋牋牋牋At a signal, out of Hollyhock Hall rushed Queen Honeylinne, attended by thousands of her subjects. Up, up, they circled, around and around, a host of brown fuzzy bodies, a cloud of buzzing wings, and then away! Who led the way? No one knows. But on they went over field and orchard, over river and hill, into the sweet cool of the wood, and then into the hollow trunk of a great oak tree, there to found a new home and never more to return to Hollyhock Hall.
牋牋牋牋牋"Alas! alas!" cried Buckwheat Fluff, as she saw Meadow Sip and Plum Petal swept out of the door and up into the air without a good-by glance. "Am I to be left all alone?"
牋牋牋牋牋"No, no!" exclaimed Locust Whiff, who had heard her cry and came hurrying toward her. "I am with you, little Buckwheat Fluff. It was Meadow Sip and Plum Petal's duty to go and help make a new home, just as it was our duty to stay here and take care of the babies. Don't grieve, Buckwheat Fluff, we may yet meet Meadow Sip and Plum Petal upon the goldenrod and asters on many an autumn day. Run now and feed the oldest baby queen; she has her tongue through a little hole in the wax. She has been piping all day to be free, and in a few minutes we must let her out. But be very careful not to let the queen next in age out of her cell."
牋牋牋牋牋As Buckwheat Fluff ran to obey Locust Whiff she heard a great buzzing of wings; it was the faithful bees who, in the midst of all the furor, had tried to guard the royal cells. But alas, in that last excitement when the swarm rushed out of the hive they had forgotten their duty for a moment and the two eldest queens had escaped from their cells. No one who saw them could doubt for an instant their royal blood; there was the tapering body, brown above and golden beneath, and short filmy wings daintily crossed as a queen's should be.
牋牋牋牋牋There was nothing for the workers to do but form a circle about the queens and let them settle their differences as they would, for there is a law above all other laws in Bee Land that there can be but one queen.
牋牋牋牋牋As the two young queens met they flew at each other in the greatest fury, biting savagely at antennae, head, breast, and body, and trying with might and main to make use of their stings. In this they failed, owing to their close embrace. But when they started back and tried to escape from the circle the workers seized them by their legs and forced them back. Once more they rushed at each other; this time the older queen darted forward and catching her enemy by the wing thrust her sting between the rings of the soft abdomen. The poor wounded queen dragged herself to the edge of the circle and after a few feeble movements dropped back dead.
牋牋牋牋牋Then the victorious queen began to fly toward the royal cells where the other little queens were sleeping, but the guards drove her back, pulling her, biting her, and only letting her alone when she turned away.
牋牋牋牋牋Three times the queen pressed her body up against the comb, and crossing her wings upon her back gave a low sweet call. At the sound of their queen's voice every bee hung its head and stood motionless until she gave them leave to move.
牋牋牋牋牋That night Buckwheat Fluff was one of the guards to the royal cell of the oldest prisoner queen. The poor little queen put out her tongue for honey, and piped and piped for liberty. Toward morning, when every eye was heavy with sleep, there came a hurrying, scurrying through the hall; it was the new queen who had escaped her attendants, and before Buckwheat Fluff could stay her, she had torn the cell of the oldest prisoner queen open and had thrust her cruel sting into the soft body just below the silken sleeping-jacket the poor little queen had spun. There was no stopping the savage queen after this. Cell after cell was torn open until every heir to the throne lay dead, and the new queen, Nectarkin, reigned alone.
牋牋牋牋牋To Buckwheat Fluff this was all very dreadful, and she was glad to fly out into the sunshine to gather honey and to try to forget. In her gentle little heart she knew she would never love Queen Nectarkin who had killed the helpless baby queens, and not to love one's queen is a sad thing indeed.
牋牋牋牋牋So she stayed out in the sweet, sunny air just as long as she could, sipping here and there, stopping to suck at the hole the bumblebee had cut in the tube of the morning-glory, a thing she had usually scorned to do. She swept pollen into her baskets in a half-hearted way. Wonderfully cut jewels these pollen grains were, each flower with a different form, like a lovely priceless gem. Now Buckwheat Fluff took time to admire them, taking a little here, a little there, orange, yellow, or brown; star, globe, circle, or triangle, it made no difference, though always before she had gathered but one kind, since they packed best so.
牋牋牋牋牋Once that morning there was almost a tragedy, for Buckwheat Fluff did what Meadow Sip had warned her never to try; she stopped to sip honey from the milkweed flower. Now the milkweed keeps her pollen in little sacs tied together with sticky threads, and these clung to her feet and tongue just as Meadow Sip had said they would. But worst of all, she almost caught a foot in one of the cruel little clefts at the bottom of the blossom, for sometimes these clefts hold so tight there is no getting free. Many a foolish bee has lost her life just so. But Buckwheat Fluff was so lucky as to escape, though it took her a long time to clean herself from pollen. She was now so tired that she stopped to have a little talk with Mrs. Taylor Bee, who with her scissor-like jaw was cutting out little circles from fresh, green rose-leaves to line her nest. So it was very late when Buckwheat Fluff got home.
牋牋牋牋牋Hollyhock Hall was in a great commotion when she arrived. Queen Nectarkin had flown away that morning on her wedding journey as gay and happy as a bride could be, but she failed to return. Perhaps she had missed her way, or fallen the victim of some bird; any way she never came back. And since she had slain all the young queens there was no one to reign in Hollyhock Hall, and the bees were in the wildest tumult.
牋牋牋牋牋Locust Whiff had the bees at once enlarge the cells of two little worker babies who were three days old, and feed them with the royal jelly; these would in time hatch out queens, to be sure; still they would have to be without a mother queen for days.
牋牋牋牋牋Late the next afternoon as Buckwheat Fluff stood on guard at the door of the hall, and all the bees seemed very weary and discouraged, a strange bee alighted at the door. To Buckwheat Fluff's astonishment and delight it was a beautiful queen. Now if there had been a reigning queen in the hive she would have been admitted only to fight in mortal combat, but as it was, she was welcomed with the greatest joy.
牋牋牋牋牋"Hail, hail, great queen!" buzzed the guards, forming a circle about her and touching her tenderly with their antennae. "Welcome, your gentle majesty," they cried, offering her honey, and vibrating their wings with joy as they led her to the center of the hive.
牋牋牋牋牋"Hail, hail!" buzzed the other bees, hurrying up and breaking through the circle. Approaching to salute with their antennae they also offered her honey, and then stepped in behind the others to enlarge the circle. On and on came the bees until everyone had saluted her and paid homage to the queen who had come to them in their hour of need. This was the coronation of Queen Ambrosialinne, and the bees stood about her, joyfully vibrating their wings and buzzing in perfect rhythm.
牋牋牋牋牋The weeks went on smoothly at Hollyhock Hall, and now it was Hollyhock Hall indeed, for the pretty white hive was almost lost in the tall spikes all ablaze with crimson, rose, pink, gold, and white. Hollyhocks were everywhere, and "buzz-z-z-z, buzz-z-z-z" came from the deep cups where fuzzy little pillars smeared fuzzy little heads with golden pollen and snickered softly as they did so.
牋牋牋牋牋The roadside was as gorgeous as some old tapestry. There was the blue of the chickory; the yellow of the rudbekia; the dull white of the boneset; the rich orange of the butterfly weed; the feathery green of the yarrow, both pink and white; the toadflax, butter-and-eggs yellow; the lacy, white wheels of the wild carrot; the pink of the Bouncing Bets threaded with the gold of the jewel-weed.
牋牋牋牋牋Down by the river's edge the glowing red of the cardinal flower flamed amid the cool green rushes, telling that summer was at her height, and everywhere the bees found honey.
牋牋牋牋牋From early morning until twilight tireless wings sailed the flowery seas to gather honey to feed the helpless little ones, and to store the cells for the coming winter. But the drones, idle and helpless, floated from flower to flower, sipping where they would. Their work was over, the queen had mated, and now the drones were but a burden to the faithful workers, who knew they could not support them in idleness during the long, hard winter.
牋牋牋牋牋So one morning there was a dreadful scene in the hive. Buckwheat Fluff, always tender-hearted, had warned Grumble Buzz, Whiffle Whiz, Mutter Fuzz, and Hum Mumble, and in the early dawn these four had sped away to make their living as best they could. The rest of the drones were driven to the bottom of the hive, and there, without quarter, they were stung to death. Even the baby drones were torn from the comb, and when night came not a drone remained in Hollyhock Hall.
牋牋牋牋牋It was a long time before Buckwheat Fluff recovered from this awful sight, for she had loved her brothers, and though she knew they could not be supported through the winter, still to her their death seemed very cruel.
牋牋牋牋牋But by and by when the goldenrod and aster time came, and all the world was misty with purple and gilt, when the orchard was hung with apples, the "lanterns of St. Eulalie,"