"How can you hope to learn," interrupted the queen, "if all that you do is to eat it all without having any to make honeycombs? Your case is a very bad one. As you have not a good lawyer you are lost. Fetch the bee."
The latter appeared, her presence awakening a general murmur. It wore neither a dress-coat nor a frock-coat, nor even a lounge-coat; it was wearing a blouse covered with stains of honey and wax. All drew away from the bee for fear of getting soiled.
"Now I know what I am coming to," it said without keeping quiet. "It is always the same song: that we do take away, that we do not take away the nectar from the flowers. Good, what about it? We do not do so for ourselves, but for our master. All the sweet syrup of your corollas we enclose in the hive, and from there every year it comes out so that Man, our master, rejoices his palate with it and embalms his breath with your aroma. After dying in summer and losing your green leaves in autumn, you still live in us, that we may make your remembrance lasting. And still you complain! You, it is true, give your blood, but it would be worth nothing if we did not gather it in order to store it. The work is ours, and the work is worth as much as your nectar. If you have to condemn me, do so quickly, I beg of you, as I am losing a great deal of work time, and we are somewhat behindhand with the work."
The rose called the pink and the violet, discussed the case with them, and after some minutes' reflection, spoke in this manner:
"The wasp is an unconscientious glutton who, under the pretext of making honeycombs, which she never succeeds in doing, robs us. Give her five hundred hard lashes."
On hearing this a deadly nightshade seized the wasp and carried her away to bestow the correction.
"The butterfly's innocence and moderation favour her," said the queen, "therefore I declare her absolved with all favourable pronouncements."
The butterfly bowed respectfully and kissed the sovereign's hand. Her golden feelers glistened, she shook her wings, filling the ambient air with diamond dust, and took to flight showering cascades of light.
"With regard to the bee," continued the rose, "not only do I find her without any guilt, but wish that henceforth you do not close your petals to her, but leave her at liberty to carry away the honey that she requires. As a reward for her laboriousness, and as a symbol of perpetual friendship between us, I am going to give her a kiss."
The bee, much moved, advanced, and placing her blushing forehead within reach of the queen's lips, received a kiss of peace, which made tears of gratitude gather in her eyes.