introduce myself. My name is Peter, of the family of rose-beetles."

"My name is Maya," said the little bee shyly. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance." She looked at Peter closely; he was bowing repeatedly, and spreading his feelers like two little brown fans. That pleased Maya immensely.

"You have the most fascinating feelers," she said, "simply sweet."

"Well, yes," observed Peter, flattered, "people do think a lot of them. Would you like to see the other side?"

"If I may."

The rose-beetle turned his fan-shaped feelers to one side and let a ray of sunlight glide over them.

"Great, don't you think?" he asked.

"I shouldn't have thought anything like them possible," rejoined Maya. "My own feelers are very plain."

"Well, yes," observed Peter, "to each his own. By way of compensation you certainly have beautiful eyes, and the color of your body, the gold of your body, is not to be sneezed at."

Maya beamed. Peter was the first person to tell her she had any good looks. Life was great. She was happy as a lark, and helped herself to some more nectar.

"An excellent quality of honey," she remarked.

"Take some more," said Peter, rather amazed by his little guest's appetite. "Rose-juice of the first vintage. One has to be careful and not spoil one's stomach. There's some dew left, too, if you're thirsty."

"Thank you so much," said Maya. "I'd like to fly now, if you will permit me."

The rose-beetle laughed.

"Flying, always flying," he said. "It's in the blood of you bees. I don't understand such a restless way of living. There's some advantage in staying in one place, too, don't you think?"Peter courteously held the red curtain aside. "I'll go as far as our observation petal with you," he said. "It makes an excellent place to fly from."

"Oh, thank you," said Maya, "I can fly from anywhere."

"That's where you have the advantage over me," replied Peter. "I have some difficulty in unfolding my lower wings." He shook her hand and held the last curtain aside for her.

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