"Are not my children the best?" asked Gold Broom of the bees.
"Are not mine?" asked White Broom.
"That is hard to decide," said the Bees. "We love them all alike. Gold Broom's children have more honey, but White Broom's honey is sweeter to the taste." They flew away to their hive, leaving the mothers to argue it out.
The children took no part in the discussion. They were too happy to quarrel. They played and danced every day, till at last they grew tired. Then they dropped their bright wings and shut themselves away in their little green houses.
Here they sat in rows on round stools and grew fat. The walls were lined with wool, so that the cold could not come in; every day Gold Broom and White Broom sent food up the stalk-passages to them. Thus they were comfortable and happy.
But outside the mothers were still quarrelling.
"My houses are bigger than yours," said Gold Broom.
"As I told you before, size is nothing," replied White Broom. "Anyway, mine are much finer in shape."
The houses turned brown and black, and the children turned brown and black. They were big and strong now, and they wished to come out. One by one Gold Broom and White Broom twisted the walls of the houses. Out sprang the children into the world. Pop! pop! pop! Such a splitting and twisting of little house-walls curling back upon each other! Such a jumping of brown and black children far out over the ground!
"Mine jump the farthest," said Gold Broom.