So the Dormouse stood impatiently tapping his boots till the Mole should be ready. The Dormouse was dressed in the height of fashion, and thought himself a rather handsome fellow. Some people said that he was conceited, and indeed a Spider that was near at hand plainly told him so; but, whether this was true or not, there is no doubt that he was a very kind little fellow, because he came to lead his poor blind cousin to the feast.
“What a time you have been, old boy,” he said, as the Mole appeared, dusting the earth off his coat and white hat.
The Mole answered that he had been very busy all morning making a new tunnel between his bed-room and drawing-room. He then took his friend’s arm, and away they went over the green meadows, where the cowslips and buttercups grew, making the grass look as if it were dotted all over with gold. Sometimes the two friends stopped by the way to rest under a buttercup, and sip a little morning dew; but seeing every one hastening past them, while they wasted their time, the Dormouse jumped up again, and cast a sly look at his blind friend as he asked him what he thought of the fine view.
“Don’t make jokes about my being blind,” said the Mole, pretending to be angry.
Just at that moment they both ran into a Spider’s web.
“Oh! how stupid of me,” cried the Dormouse; “I wasn’t looking before me at the time.”
“You might as well be without eyes, if you don’t use them,” said the Mole, as they cleared away the threads of the net, and, making a low bow to the Spider, went on their way.
Now, all this time the Snail had been slowly creeping over the stones and winding round the blades of grass and flowers that strewed her path to the place of meeting. But she was so long of getting there that the guests began to be impatient, and said that perhaps she was not coming at all. She lived under the next tree, and had only about four feet to walk, but she was so very slow
that she took a long, long time to it; and at last the Grasshopper whispered to the Butterfly that she should go and meet her. Away went the Butterfly on her gaudy wings, and, alighting by the Snail’s side, began to urge her to make haste. During the Butterfly’s absence, the Wasp, who was always making spiteful remarks, said that it was shameful in the Snail to keep them waiting; but the Humble-bee, who was walking up and down conversing with a Midge, turned round and said, “Remember, you Wasp, that you have not brought your sting with you to-day, so pray do not give way to your spiteful nature. The poor Snail has to carry her house on her back, so we should not be angry at her slowness.” Some of the other insects said that this was no excuse for the Snail, because she knew that she walked very slowly, and should therefore have set out sooner.