“That’s right,” said the queen. “Now we will begin to build.”
The old bees took the wax and started building a number of small hexagonal cells, all alike and close together. All the time that they were building, the others came flying up with pollen and honey, which they laid at the queen’s feet.
“Now we’ll knead the dough!” said she. “But first pour a little honey in; then it will taste better.”
They kneaded and kneaded and made nice little loaves of bee-bread, which they carried to the cells.
“Now we’ll go on building!” commanded the queen-bee. And they sweated wax and built away with a vengeance.
“I may as well begin my own work,” said the queen and heaved a deep sigh, for this was the hardest of all.
She sat down in the middle of the hive and began to lay eggs. She laid great heaps and the bees ran up, took the little eggs in their mouths and carried them into the new cells. Every egg got its own little room; and, when they were all disposed of, the queen ordered the bees to put doors to the cells and to shut them tight.
“Good!” she said, when they had finished. “Now you can build me ten big, handsome rooms at the outer edge of the hive.”
The bees did so in a trice and then the queen laid ten beautiful eggs, one in each of the big rooms, and put a door before them.
Every day, the bees flew out and in and gathered great heaps of honey and pollen; but, in the evening, when their work was done, they set the doors a little ajar and peeped in at the eggs.