"How long?" asked the butterfly, who had been working his wings up and down all this time.
"Many days and many nights, all through the cold winter. The wind rocked you in your little cradle-house; the rain kept your house nice and soft; and now, today, the warm, spring sun has waked you up and soon you will fly!"
At these words, the butterfly pressed his wings down and soared up in the air, over the trees and far away. "Good-bye," he called out as he disappeared among the tall trees, "and thank you, little boy!"
"You are welcome," called Billy and then he sat still and silent.
"What's the matter, Billy?" asked the grasshopper.
"I was wishing that I might fly!" said Billy.
"Who knows!" exclaimed the grasshopper. "Perhaps you may some day!"
"But I can run!" and Billy was off down the road on his way home. The grasshopper overtook him in one hop. "Shall we stop and pick some flowers for your mother?" he asked.
"That's so!" said Billy, "we will!"