“Why, you’ve given me back my money!” he said.
The little woman put her hands behind her. “I do not like it,” she said; “it’s dirty; at least, it’s not new.”
“No, it’s not new,” said Jack, a good deal surprised, “but it is a good sixpence.”
“The bees don’t like it,” continued the little woman. “They like things to be neat and new, and that sixpence is bent.”
“What shall I give you then?” said Jack.
The good little woman laughed and blushed. “This young gentleman has a beautiful whistle round his neck,” she observed, politely, but did not ask for it.
Jack had a dog-whistle, so he took it off and gave it to her.
“Thank you for the bees,” she said. “They love to be called home when we’ve collected flowers for them.”
So she made a pretty little curtsey, and went away to her customers.
There were some very strange creatures also, about the same height as Jack, who had no tents, and seemed there to buy, not to sell. Yet they looked poorer than the other folks and they were also very cross and discontented; nothing pleased them. Their clothes were made of moss, and their mantles of feathers; and they talked in a queer whistling tone of voice, and carried their skinny little children on their backs and on their shoulders.