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Little Bud
by
Eagerly they told him all about their little guest, and asked him if he had heard anything of a featherless bird, a strayed elf, or a human changeling hidden in a blue egg.
The bee said he once heard a humming-bird tell about some little creatures who were neither children nor fairies, because they were made out of the fancies in people’s heads. These poor mites never could be real boys and girls; but if they tried very hard, and were very good, wings would grow and they would be elves at last.
“I will, I will!” cried Bud. “I know I am one of those creatures, and I want to be a fairy and find my home by and by. How shall I do it?”
“I think you have begun very well; for I’ve heard of you from several friends as I came through the wood, and all say good words of you. Go on, and I am sure you will find your wings at last. See! I will do my part, and give you something to eat as you travel along.”
As the kind bee spoke he began to mix the yellow pollen and honey he had gathered, and soon handed Bud a nice little loaf of bee-bread to carry with her. She folded it up in white violet leaves, like a sweet-scented napkin, and with a horn of honey from the columbines set out again with many thanks and full of hope and courage.
Presently a cloud of gay butterflies came flocking round her, crying out,–
“Here’s a rose! I smell honey! Come and taste! No, it is an elf! Dance with us, little dear!”
Bud admired them very much, and felt very glad and proud when they lighted all over her, till she looked like one great butterfly with wings of every color.
“I cannot play with you because I am not an elf; but if you will carry me on my way toward Fairyland I will give you my honey and my bread, for I go very slowly and want to get along as quickly as I can,” said Bud, thinking that these pretty insects might help her.
The butterflies were idle things and hated to work, but they wanted the dainty loaf and the flower sweets; so they said they would try to carry Bud and save her tired little feet. They held tightly to her belt, her hair, her frock, and all flew up at once, lifting her a little way above the ground and carrying her along in a cloud of blue and yellow, red and brown wings fluttering as they went. It was hard work, and soon the smaller ones let go; so Bud began to fall, and they were forced to lay her down on the grass while they rested and ate the bee-bread every crumb.
“Take me a little farther, and then you shall have the honey,” said wise Bud, who was anxious to get on, and saw that the lazy flies would leave her as soon as her provisions were gone.
“Up again!” cried the great black and golden one; and away they went, all tugging stoutly. But though the tiny maid was as light as a feather, they had little strength in either legs or wings, and soon dropped her bump in the dusty path below.
“Thanks! Here’s the horn; now let me rest and get over my fall,” said Bud, making up her mind that her own feet were safest, after all.
The butterflies flew away, and the small traveller sat up to see where she was. A dismal groaning caught her ear; and close by she saw a rusty old beetle feebly trying to dig a hole in the sand.
“What is the matter?” asked Bud.
“It is time to die, and I want to bury myself; but I’m so weak I’m afraid I shall not get my grave ready in time, and then I shall be eaten up by some bird, or crushed by some giant’s foot,” answered the beetle, kicking and shovelling away as hard as he could.