“Certainly I mean you no harm,” barked the Woolly Dog. “I am sorry if I disturbed you, but I couldn’t help it. A bad boy tossed me in among you.”
By this time a number of the strongest bees had gotten ready to sting the Woolly Dog in answer to their Queen’s command, but now Her Majesty, who was a longer, thinner bee than any of the others, walked daintily toward the Woolly Dog.
“What a queer creature he is, to be sure,” said the Queen. “So very large and fuzzy, as you said, my children. Not as large as the farmer, but truly much more fuzzy.”
“Big as he is, Your Majesty,” growled one of the worker bees, “we can all sting him if you say so. But it will be hard work. His fuzzy coat of wool will tangle in our legs. But we can sting him on his nose—he has no fuzz there.”
“Oh, don’t sting me on my nose! Don’t, please, sting me on my nose!” howled the Woolly Dog, and he began hiding his nose down in his paws.
“No, don’t sting him,” ordered the Queen. “He is one of us. But I must ask you, Mr. Woolly Dog,” she went on, “please to get out of our hive, for you are in the way. I don’t want to be impolite, but you are in the way.”
“Oh, I’ll get out fast enough, I promise you,” said the Dog, but he wondered how in the world he was ever going to get back to Donald’s house all by himself. Here was a dreadful adventure!
The Woolly Dog was about to jump out of the beehive when suddenly the Queen called:
“Here comes the farmer!”
Then the Dog knew he dared not move, for that was not allowed when human eyes saw him.