CHAPTER SEVEN
Crip, the Wise
When we had returned to our cell we halted, and for a season remained quiet. Indeed, we slept a tiny bit, as much as ever a bee can sleep at a stretch, and then we fell into meditation. Among other things, I was wondering what the Queen-Mother was doing when she popped her long, thin body into each cell as she made her rounds. I could not understand and so I called on Crip to explain.
“Why, laying eggs!” he said, right sharply, as though annoyed at my ignorance.
“Well, what are eggs?” for I was still no wiser.
“Come with me,” he said, and off we went across the combs.
He did not stop until he reached the very spot where we had seen the Queen. The odor of her was still strong thereabouts, but she had gone.
“Now look, stupid!” Crip said. “At the bottom of each of the cells in this section of comb is an egg.”