. "While I was watching her I saw her turn over a leaf.
So what's the use of her turning over another."

And now it was Mrs. Ladybug's turn to look amazed and bewildered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped, glaring at Daddy
Longlegs. "And I don't believe you know, yourself."

"Oh! yes, I do!" he retorted shrilly.

"Butter has no leaves," said Mrs. Ladybug with a knowing air. "I saw
heaps and heaps of it in Farmer Green's buttery yesterday. And there
wasn't a leaf on it."

"How about eggs, then?" shouted somebody in the crowd. It was stupid
Buster Bumblebee! And of course nobody paid any heed to his silly
question.

As he stared at Mrs. Ladybug dully Daddy Longlegs let his mouth fall
wide open.

"Why, what do you mean?" he demanded at last. "You and I aren't talking
about the same sort of butter at all! You're describing the kind of
butter that Mrs. Green makes at the farmhouse."

"And what, pray tell, have you been talking about all this time?" Mrs.
Ladybug gasped.

"The butter-and-eggs in the meadow!" Daddy Longlegs informed her. "I
suppose you know the plant, don't you?"

"I've heard of it," Mrs. Ladybug replied. "But I doubt if there is such
a thing."

"And I say there is!" Buster Bumblebee clamored. "We Bumblebees are very
fond of butter-and-eggs. And we're about the only field people that
know how to open a blossom and reach its nectar."

Little Mrs. Ladybug waited to hear no more.

"You've made a terrible blunder!" she told Daddy Longlegs hurriedly. And
before he could answer her she had hastened away.

Like many another jealous body, Mrs. Ladybug had behaved very foolishly.
And it was no wonder that she wanted to get away from the crowd.

She didn't even beg Betsy Butterfly's pardon for calling her a thief.
But all the rest of the field people realized at last that Betsy was no
thief.

The butter-and-eggs plant, they were well aware, was as free as the
clover, or the milk-weed blossoms, or any other of the wild flowers.
Everybody knew that Farmer Green laid no claim to them, though they did
grow in his meadow.

And when Betsy Butterfly thanked Daddy Longlegs for his explanation he
wished more than ever that he had worn his new coat that day--and his
new hat, too.

XIII

THE FRIENDLY STRANGER

OF course, anyone so beautiful as Betsy Butterfly was bound to attract
attention. Wherever she went people turned their heads--if they
could--to look at her. And those