Puffy blinked as if embarrassed. "Well, you see, a bee—er—makes honey," he began lamely.
The figure had turned a corner of the Barn. Now, on the farther side of the great structure, it was flitting past the openings.
Gwendolyn rested a hand on the wing of the Bird. "Won't you eat it?" she questioned.
The Bird wagged his bumpy head. "It's against all the laws of this Land," he declared.
"But this is a society bee."
"A bird isn't even allowed to eat a bad bee. But"—chirping low—"I'll tell you what can be tried."
"Yes?"
"Ask your mother to trade her bonnet for the Piper's poke."
Gwendolyn stared at him for a moment. Then she understood. "The poke's prettier," she declared. "Oh, if she only would! Piper!"
The Piper swaggered up. "Some collecting on hand?" he asked. Swinging as usual from a shoulder was the poke.