ittle stream grew into a great river.

Oh, how Maia enjoyed that voyage, when once she became quite certain
that the frogs could no longer reach her. Past many towns she went,
and the people on the banks all turned to look at her, and exclaimed:

'What a lovely little girl! Where can she have come from?'

'What a lovely little girl!' twittered the birds in the bushes. And a
blue butterfly fell in love with her, and would not leave her; so she
took off her sash, which just matched him, and tied it round his body,
so that with this new kind of horse she travelled much faster than
before.

Unluckily, a great cockchafer, who was buzzing over the river,
happened to catch sight of her, and caught her up in his claws. The
poor butterfly was terribly frightened at the sight of him, and he
struggled hard to free himself, so that the sash bow gave way, and he
flew off into the sunshine. But Maia wasn't so fortunate, and though
the cockchafer collected honey from the flowers for her dinner, and
told her several times how pretty she was, she could not feel at ease
with him. The cockchafer noticed this, and summoned his sisters to
play with her; but they only stared rudely, and said:

'Where did you pick up that strange object? She is very ugly to be
sure, but one ought to pity her for she has only two legs.'

'Yes, and no feelers,' added another; 'and she is so thin! Well, our
brother has certainly very odd taste!'

[Illustration: MAIA CARRIED OFF BY THE COCKCHAFER]

'Indeed he has!' echoed the others. And they repeated it so loud and
so often that, in the end, he believed it too, and snatching her up
from the tree where he had placed her, set her down upon a daisy which
grew near the ground.

Here Maia stayed for the whole summer, and really was not at all
unhappy. She ventured to walk about by herself, and wove herself a bed
of some blades of grass, and placed it under a clover leaf for
shelter. The red cups that grew in the moss held as much dew as she
wanted, and the cockchafer had taught her how to get honey. But summer
does not last for ever, and by-and-by the flowers withered, and
instead of dew there was snow and ice. Maia did not know what to do,
for her clothes were worn to rags, and though she tried to roll
herself up in a dry leaf it broke under her fingers. It soon was plain
to her that if she did not get some other shelter she would die of
hunger and cold.

So, gathering up all her courage, she left the