t they and the flowers seemed
to have changed garments, so completely were they clothed with it.

Piccolissima could contain herself no longer. She cried out to her
sister, whom she saw coming towards her:

"O, come, come quickly! See the flies putting on their ball dresses,
and making their toilet in the cup of a flower."

Linette, still at a distance, did not hasten her steps,
notwithstanding the exclamations of her sister; and before she came,
Piccolissima was convinced that the flies did not think much of
their brilliant toilet. She saw them push off all their finery by
means of the brushes with which their legs were furnished. These
excellent little square brushes were placed on their hind legs
mostly; they had brown horn backs, and short, stiff hairs, ranged
regularly. These brushes did their work so well, that in less than a
moment every fly had resumed his modest livery.

But what had become of the rich yellow powder? The insect had taken
care to brush himself so rapidly that Piccolissima could but just
see the dust he had collected pass from one part of his body to
another, till the whole came to the third pair of his legs, and was
collected together in a little oval cavity, surrounded by a thick
circle of skin which closed in upon it. Every fly used his middle
legs afterward to press and roll up into his basket his little
store.

"Hast thou forgotten how to walk faster than a snail?" said
Piccolissima to her sister. "These great flies were just now dressed
with a cloak of gold, and now they carry their toilet in a bundle;
look at the third joint of their largest legs, which they join
together and let hang behind them when they fly."

"Nonsense! I know all about them," said Linette, as she saw them fly
away with their burden; "these are bees who make honey, such as I
have brought you for your breakfast;" and the young girl put into
her sister's hand a double slice of bread and honey.

Without noticing her breakfast, Piccolissima eagerly tasted of what
remained of the yellow dust of the stamens of the lily.

"But, Linette," said she, "this does not taste like honey."

"Very true; it is for the bees to entitle it to that name, and not
for me. All that I know is, that they call them honey bees because
they make honey. They also make wax; and I have often seen them
carry away little balls of the dust of flowers. Whether they make it
afterwards into honey or wax, is their business. You have only to
ask t