“Ah, now I know. It was because of a panther.”
“Dear, dear Colibrí, that is worse still. A panther, did you say? I must have heard wrong.”
“Isn’t that right, either? Well, it must have been all three—the mouse, the mud, and the panther. So there now. . . . But how sweet this honey is.”
“Indeed, I am glad that you find it so. But please tell me about your pretty dress.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot, thinking of the honey. One has so much to think of. I remember now, perfectly well. It was Paloma the dove who told me all about it yesterday, but a day and a night is a very, very long time to remember a long tale.”
“Then tell me before you forget.”
“Well, once all humming-birds were gray.”
“So I have heard.”
“Well, a big panther was going through the woods very quietly, and he stepped on a mouse-nest and happened to kill all the baby mice.”
“Dear me. I am so sorry to hear that.”