“That’s the fling I spoke of,” cried the Cricket, leaping up and running away.
The Scotch Bee sprang up, drew his dirk, and gave chase, but Mr Grasshopper caught him by the arm and dragged him off.
“Ho! friends—supper—supper! This way. Don’t sheathe your dirk. I have a haggis ready for you to sheathe it in. Come along; give your arm to that bloated old Spider there. She’ll keep you in spirits.”
The Bee was mollified. He gave his arm to the Spider; then all the company went off to sup in a neighbouring glade. Shall we describe the supper? We think not. It was beyond description delightful. Just as it was finished the moon rose from behind a cloud, so the company knew that it was time to go home.
Before going away, they all assembled at the foot of the oak, and shook claws with Lady Butterfly and Mr Grasshopper, saying that they were charmed with the delightful evening they had spent, and that they hoped to be soon invited again.
In a few minutes they were all gone. The sounds of their laughing voices, as they returned home, died gradually away, and the shadows of night spread over the quiet forest and the happy little creatures that slumbered there.
| [Chapter 1] | | [Chapter 2] |