ive her out again into the gay whirl of life.

One day she met a very curious creature. It was angular and flat
as a pancake, but had a rather neat design on its sheath; and
whether its sheath were wings or what, you couldn't really tell.
The odd little monster sat absolutely still on the shaded leaf
of a raspberry bush, its eyes half closed, apparently sunk in
meditation. The scent of the raspberries spread around it
deliciously. Maya wanted to find out what sort of an animal it
was. She flew to the next-door leaf and said how-do-you-do. The
stranger made no reply.

"How do you do, again?" And Maya gave its leaf a little tap. The
flat object peeled one eye open, turned it on Maya, and said:

"A bee. The world is full of bees," and closed its eye again.

"Unique," thought Maya, and determined to get at the stranger's
secret. For now it excited her curiosity more than ever, as
people often do who pay no attention to us. She tried honey.
"I have plenty of honey," she said. "May I offer you some?" The
stranger opened its one eye and regarded Maya contemplatively a
moment or two. "What is it going to say this time?" Maya
wondered.

This time there was no answer at all. The one eye merely closed
again, and the stranger sat quite still, tight on the leaf, so
that you couldn't see its legs and you'd have thought it had
been pressed down flat with a thumb.

Maya realized, of course, that the stranger wanted to ignore
her, but--you know how it is--you don't like being snubbed,
especially if you haven't found out what you wanted to find out.
It makes you feel so cheap.

"Whoever you are," cried Maya, "permit me to inform you that
insects are in the habit of greeting each other, especially when
one of them happens to be a bee." The bug sat on without
budging. It did not so much as open its one eye again. "It's
ill," thought Maya. "How horrid to be ill on a lovely day like
this. That's why it's staying in the shade, too." She flew over
to the bug's leaf and sat down beside it. "Aren't you feeling
well?" she asked, so very friendly.

At this the funny creature began to move away. "Move" is the
only word to use, because it didn't walk, or run, or fly, or
hop. It went as if shoved by an invisible hand.

"It hasn't any legs. That's why it's so cross," thought Maya.

When it reached the stem of the leaf it stopped a second, moved
on again, and, to her astonishment, Maya saw that it had left
behind a little brown drop.