At the hunters’ approach the grasshoppers hop, the bees fly off, and thousands of pale-blue or white butterflies seem to come out of the flowers. But they are too small, and there are so many of them that they do not know which to catch. Peacocks are what they want, or emperors.
Minnie finds that there are holes in the ground, hidden under the grass, which make her trip, and there are disagreeable plants growing among the daisies, which sting her legs, and even some that tear little slits in her frock—but when one goes a-hunting one must not be particular; another time she will ask for a pair of gaiters, like Bertie’s, and a very thick frock. Mr. Donkey is very inquisitive.
VII.
Hush!—Bertie stops all on a sudden, and makes signs to Minnie not to stir. He must have spied a peacock. How cleverly and quietly he steals up—nearer, nearer, without the slightest noise; he scarcely seems to breathe. Minnie would like to run across to see the beautiful peacock. Bertie holds up his net, all ready to catch the butterfly; the wind puffs the green gauze a little, and Minnie’s heart beats with impatience.
The Donkey cannot conceive what the children are doing. They seem to pay no attention to him.
