“Every inch of the depth,” Violetta replied.
“And that you can gather honey and pollen enough to fill it?”
“I must provide for my children, or they would starve.”
“And you can make ceilings of such a thing as sawdust to divide your home into cells?”
“This is perhaps the hardest part of my task, but nevertheless this must be done.”
“Where will you find sawdust for this carpenter’s work?”
“See yonder little heap; I have gathered it together. Those are my cuttings from my tunnel in the wood.”
“You are without doubt a most wonderful bee. And you really labour all alone?”
“All alone,” replied Violetta.
Honeyball thought of her own cheerful hive, with its thousands of workers and divisions of labour, and waxen cells dropping with golden honey. She scarcely could believe her own five eyes when she saw what one persevering insect could do. Her surprise and her praise pleased the violet-bee, who took pride in showing every part of her work, describing her difficulties, and explaining her manner of working.