"Oh, so you're there, are you?" said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "You look very nice."
"Thank you," said the May-fly. "Now I must just go round the pond and lay my eggs. Then I'll come back and sit down in the reeds and die; and then you can eat me. And a thousand thanks to you for sparing my life that time and for warning me when I was in danger. If you hadn't done that, I should never have beheld this glorious sight."
"If only you don't over-eat yourself on the way and forget your promise!" said Mrs. Reed-Warbler.
"There's no danger of that," replied the May-fly. "I have eaten all I need. I haven't even a mouth! I shall just enjoy an hour or two of this delightful life and then lay my eggs. That's my lot; and I don't complain."
"Life is not so delightful as you think," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "If I were a true friend to you, I would save you from seeing all your illusions shattered."
"How can you say that life is not delightful?" said the May-fly. "Look ... and look ... and look...."
"I will be a true friend to you," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "You shall be spared disappointment. I will eat you straight away."
Then she caught her and ate her.
"Good-evening, madam," said the eel. "Are you sitting and contemplating the poetry of Nature? I just saw you destroying a bit of it ... for the May-fly.... That's poetry, if you like! Well, did she taste nice?"
"You're a horrid, vulgar fellow," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler.