“You are beautiful,” she said to the moth, “beautiful, really.” She was awed and solemn.
“Who is your companion?” the moth asked the sprite.
“A bee. I met her just as I was leaving my flower.”
The moth seemed to realize what that meant. He looked at Maya almost enviously.
“You fortunate creature!” he said in a low, serious, musing tone, shaking his head to and fro.
“Are you sad?” asked Maya out of the warmth of her heart.
The moth shook his head.
“No, not sad.” His voice sounded friendly and grateful, and he gave Maya such a kind look that she would have liked to strike up a friendship with him then and there.
“Is the bat still abroad, or has he gone to rest?” This was the question for which the sprite had stopped the moth.
“Oh, he’s gone to rest long ago. You want to know, do you, on account of your companion?”