ing themselves and coiling and
uncoiling their springs. Never, however, had Sara seen such sumptuous
costumes. Such court-trains, and velvet breeches, and rainbow-colored
cloaks!

Presently, since nobody seemed to mind, Sara wandered straight into
the throne-room; and there sat the Monarch dozing on his throne, while
fourteen courtiers took turns in fanning him with their wings. At
Sara's entrance, however, he awoke with a start; and Sara was terribly
startled herself, because it was the first time anybody had really
taken any notice of her.

"Bring her some butter!" he commanded.

At his command four of the courtiers drifted away, and presently
returned carrying a silvery-white cloth, very rich and lustrous, woven
of many thicknesses of milk-weed-silk. This they spread on the
green-tiled floor in a corner of the throne-room, near a little
fountain that trickled continually a sort of silver-colored syrup,
which made a drowsy sound as it fell. Then they flew away again, and
after a good while returned carrying a pat of butter in a large
magnolia petal. The magnolia petal was about the size of Mother's best
turkey-platter, and as white and fragrant as the magnolias at home.
And the pat of butter was about as large as a veal loaf. Of course it
did not look in the least like a veal loaf; it looked exactly like
butter--a delectable, golden yellow, and all dewy-looking, as it used
to come out of the spring-house at Grandmother's.

"Sit," said the Monarch, briefly.

Sara sat.

"Eat," said the Monarch, in the same sleepy but authoritative voice.

Now, Sara was terribly uncomfortable. To be sure, nothing had ever
looked more delicious, and Sara liked butter on bread--a great deal of
it, in fact. But to eat all butter, without anything to go with it!
Yet she felt it would be dreadfully impolite to refuse; and she could
not bear to be thought impolite by all these haughty and elegant
persons. She was just about to say, humbly, "Please, might I have a
little bread?" when it occurred to her that she might just taste it,
at least. And oh, how glad she was that she did! For, of course, you
have guessed that it was not just ordinary butter, though it looked
exactly like it. It was not even the plain imaginary kind: it was
enchanted butterfly butter. And if you have ever seen a monarch
butterfly as big as a peacock, sitting on a throne, you know what it
tasted like. The nearest I can come to explaining is to say that it
tasted