ustle and the gleam of a thousand colors, lovely pale
colors like the glints in running water and clear gems.

Miss Loveydear swung through the green rushes out over the
surface of the water. Maya heard her singing in the sunshine.
She stood and listened. It was a fine song, with something of
the melancholy sweetness of a folksong, and it filled the little
bee's heart with mingled happiness and sadness.

Softly flows the lovely stream
Touched by morning's rosy gleam
Through the alders darted,
Where the rushes bend and sway,
Where the water-lilies say
"We are golden-hearted!"

Warm the scent the west-wind brings,
Bright the sun upon my wings,
Joy among the flowers!
Though my life may not be long,
Golden summer, take my song!
Thanks for perfect hours!

"Listen!" a white butterfly called to its friend. "Listen to the
song of the dragon-fly." The light creatures rocked close to
Maya, and rocked away again into the radiant blue day. Then Maya
also lifted her wings, buzzed farewell to the silvery lake, and
flew inland.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV

EFFIE AND BOBBIE

When Maya awoke the next morning in the corolla of a blue
canterbury bell, she heard a fine, faint rustling in the air and
felt her blossom-bed quiver as from a tiny, furtive tap-tapping.
Through the open corolla came a damp whiff of grass and earth,
and the air was quite chill. In some apprehension, she took a
little pollen from the yellow stamens, scrupulously performed
her toilet, then, warily, picking her steps, ventured to the
outer edge of the drooping blossom. It was raining! A fine cool
rain was coming down with a light plash, covering everything all
round with millions of bright silver pearls, which clung to the
leaves and flowers, rolled down the green paths of the blades of
grass, and refreshed the brown soil.

What a change in the world! It was the first time in the
child-bee's young life that she had seen rain. It filled her
with wonder; it delighted her. Yet she was a little troubled.
She remembered Cassandra's warning never to fly abroad in the
rain. It must be difficult, she realized, to move your wings
when the drops beat them down. And the cold really hurt, and she
missed the quiet golden sunshine that gladdened the earth and
made it a place free from all care.

It seemed to be very early still. The animal life in the grass
was just beginning. From the concealme