"And Saggia!" exclaimed one of them. "Beffa and Saggia! Beffa in the garden! What can he do here?"
Beffa, hearing them, released himself from Saggia's support, and began to make weak little hoppings and to sing. Poor Beffa; he was sadly tired, for because of his deformed wings he had had to walk all the way from the hive. And Saggia was tired, too, because she had walked with him, and not only that, but had helped him over some of the rougher places.
Beffa sang:
"Beffa in the garden;
The prisoner in the sun;
No Queen in the palace;
No jesting to be done."
He stopped to rest, and Saggia went slowly to a flower, where she busied herself putting a little pollen into her pollen baskets.
Due turned to Beffa. "Hi, Beffa, you can sing and dance for us while we gather pollen and honey. And you can watch for Bee-Bird to see that he doesn't surprise us. Oh, you can be useful. Hop, hop, hop-la!" And she made a little hop or two, in mimicry of Beffa.
Tre had been looking sharply at Saggia. "And Saggia doesn't seem to be doing much," she said, with asperity. "Foraging again, is she? That is rather a dangerous business for such an old bee, isn't it?" she said malevolently. "The two-legged man giant that owns this garden likes the two-legged bird giants. He is a brute! He protects the birds! And they eat the insects! He might protect us, rather. Brute!"
"Brute!" cried the other bees. "Protect the horrid birds, indeed! Sting him if you see him."
Just then a big blue-bottle fly that had been buzzing about the flowers ventured too near a dark corner lower down in the bush, and was lunged at by a big black spider, which barely missed it. The blue-bottle dashed excitedly away with a tremendous buzzing, and all the bees jumped about nervously a little.
Beffa began to sing without rising from the ground, just moving his feet as if dancing: