For bees can sting as well as make honey, you know.
“Yes, this certainly is the worst of all my adventures!” thought the Woolly Dog, as he found himself among the crawling bees. “It is even worse than when Jane cut me open with the scissors and I was sewed up again. Oh, what a tickling feeling!”
Well might the Woolly Dog say this, for now he was being tickled on the outside by the bees crawling over him, and he already had a tickling feeling inside, though from what he did not know.
“These bees will sting me to death!” thought the Woolly Dog. “They certainly will sting me to death! I heard one of the animals, in the Noah’s Ark that Donald has, talking about bees. I think it was the Wooden Elephant. He said bees were dreadful stingers.”
As for the bees they were much excited. They always grew excited when the farmer took the top off their hive, as he had just done, to get some of the honey for himself. Here and there crawled the buzzing, humming bees. They had a Queen, and the Queen called:
“What is this that has fallen among us? If it is anyone but the kind farmer after our honey, just sting him, my children! We will not sting the farmer, for he is kind to us and puts us in a warm place in winter. But if it is anyone else, sting him!”
“It is someone else, Your Majesty,” answered a busy bee. “This creature is large and fuzzy—not as large as the farmer but more fuzzy.”
“Sting him!” ordered the Queen bee.
“Oh, please don’t sting me!” begged the Woolly Dog.
“Stop! Wait a minute!” commanded the Queen. “The creature speaks our language. Perhaps he means no harm,” for the Dog, you see, had spoken the language of animals and insects, there being no human beings there to spy on him.