Queen. Our thanks, brave Robin. You shall grace our merrymaking. (Enter Drummer-Boy, crying.) But now we hear a sound that comports not with merrymaking. What ails thee, child?
Drummer-Boy. Madam, do not let Mr. Philosopher send me on more riddle-reading. Truly I have met with many mishaps, yet the bumblebee's nest found I not. I spied a hole in a tree. With much ado I climbed to it and thrust my hand within. Something bit me sorely, so that I cried out with pain and hastened to slide down. A squirrel's saucy eyes peered at me from the hole. Then I would fain have pelted her with a stone, but that she withdrew quickly within her hole.
Rosemary (picking a leaf). Boy, give me thy hand. So, I will bind it in this leaf, and the wound will quickly heal. Doubtless the squirrel hath young ones, and looked upon thee as an intruder.
Philosopher. Said I not to thee, look not in hollow trees?
Drummer-Boy. Too late I remembered that. Well, I wandered on, and soon I saw what I took to be a bumblebee. I followed him till he came to a fence-post, and I saw him enter a little hole. "Here I have him!" said I, and I gave the post vigorous knocks to make him come forth. He did, indeed, and his fellows with him, and I was well stung for my pains.
Calla-Lily. What kind of a bee was it that stung thee?
Drummer-Boy. A long thin black body had he, and it concealed a wicked needle.
Calla-Lily. Thou hast been stung by a mason-wasp. I have some ointment that will take away the pain, and thou shalt anon forget thy adventures.
Drummer-Boy. The pain is gone already.