Old dog Spot couldn't help smiling the least bit.
"Why, those men aren't sawing wood. They're fiddling," he explained; "three fiddlers fiddling upon fiddles.... There's going to be a dance, you know," old dog Spot continued. "And of course nobody cares to dance without music."
"Oh, certainly not!" Buster Bumblebee agreed. And he began to be glad he had come to the farmyard, after all. You see, he was fond of music and dancing. And he thought the music played by the three fiddlers was too wonderful for words.
Soon the floor was crowded with merry people who bowed and scraped to one another and danced breakdowns and cut pigeon-wings and other capers, while Buster Bumblebee flitted gaily about just above their bobbing heads, trying his best to keep time to the music and wishing that he had brought some of his friends along with him to Farmer Green's party.
As for the raising bee, Buster had completely forgotten it. He was having so much fun at the dance that the real reason for his coming to Farmer Green's place had quite slipped out of his mind.
XXI
THE BUMBLEBEE IN THE PUMPKIN
Of course the dancers at Farmer Green's party had to stop now and then to get their breath. And the fiddlers, too, had to pause in order to rest. That is, two of them found it necessary to lay their fiddles aside once in a while. And it was no wonder; for they had each eaten a whole custard pie.
But the third fiddler was different. He was a man after Buster Bumblebee's own heart. He seemed to love to make music and never tired of coaxing the jolliest tunes out of his old fiddle that anybody could hope to hear. He only laughed when his fellow fiddlers lay back in their chairs and mopped their red faces. And just to keep the company in good spirits—and because he couldn't help it—this frolicsome fiddler would start right ahead and play something that was sure to set a body's feet a-going and make him feel so happy that he would want to shout right out—good and loud.