"Do let me take the pail for a moment," said the boy drawing it gently from her hand. "Now I will peep inside. What harm can it do? See, I will lift the cover ever so gently." He put his eye to the crack, when suddenly the cover slipped from his hand and rolled away upon the bank.

A great swarm of angry, buzzing creatures flew into his face. He struck at them with his hands, but it was of no use. They stung and stung him. "Alice! Alice!" he cried, "oh, I am stung! I am stung!"

The girl sprang quickly to help him but the angry bees flew at her also and stung her tender hands and face until she cried out with the pain.

"Oh, what have we done! What have we done!" and, s.n.a.t.c.hing the cover, Alice tried to place it upon the pail again--but too late, for not a single bee was left inside. For a little time the air was filled with angry buzzing, but soon the bees flew far away into the wood and Alice and her friend were left alone.

Smarting with pain the girl turned toward her home. Her little feet moved wearily, and the empty pail hung loosely on her arm. That night she cried herself to sleep in mother's arms, but the pretty red sash was never worn by Alice, except sometimes in her dreams.

THE LOST COMB.

One day while Lesa was picking flowers in the wood the beautiful golden comb that she always wore fell out of her hair and was lost. She searched and she searched, but she could not find it. At last she began to cry, and she cried and she cried.

Just then along came Rollicking Robin.

"Oh, do help me, Rollicking Robin!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up! I'll go seek it." sang Rollicking Robin, "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Busy Bee.

"Oh, do help me, Busy Bee!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"Buzz, buzz, buzz! I'll go seek it," hummed Busy Bee. "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Fleet-footed Field Mouse.

"Oh, do help me, Fleet-footed Field Mouse!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"Eep, eep, eep! I'll go seek it," squeaked Fleet-footed Field Mouse.

"I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Chirping Cricket.

"Oh, do help me, Chirping Cricket!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"Chirp, chirp, chirp! I'll go seek it," piped Chirping Cricket. "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Gliding Brown Snake.

"Oh, do help me, Gliding Brown Snake!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"Sssssssss! I'll go seek it," hissed Gliding Brown Snake. "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Cunning Black Ant.

"Oh, do help me, Cunning Black Ant!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"I'll go seek it," said Cunning Black Ant. "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Flitting b.u.t.terfly.

"Oh, do help me, Flitting b.u.t.terfly!" sobbed Lesa. "I have lost my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it."

"I'll go seek it," said Flitting b.u.t.terfly. "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Wrinkled Brown Toad.

"Oo-o-o-o! You ugly thing! Out of my sight!" cried Lesa. "I have trouble enough without you! I have lost my comb, my golden comb! No one can find it! Oh, what shall I do?"

"I'll go seek it," croaked Wrinkled Brown Toad. "I will find your golden comb, have no fear."

"You find my comb!" cried Lesa. "If Rollicking Robin and Busy Bee and Fleet-footed Field Mouse and Chirping Cricket and Gliding Brown Snake and Cunning Black Ant and Flitting b.u.t.terfly cannot help me, how can such a stupid, ugly, hobbling thing as you find my golden comb? Be off! Get out of my sight!"

Poor Wrinkled Brown Toad hopped away and Lesa was left alone. "Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried. "Oh, my comb, my golden comb! Some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it!" And, throwing herself upon the ground, Lesa sobbed as if her heart would break.

For a long time this forlorn little girl lay with her face buried in the moss and leaves. Suddenly she heard a strange noise behind her.

She sprang to her feet and, turning, saw coming toward her with great flying leaps--whom do you suppose? Yes, it was Wrinkled Brown Toad again. And what do you suppose he held in his ugly jaws? Yes, it was Lesa's golden comb.

"Oh, there it is! There it is! Oh, I'm so glad, so glad!" cried Lesa.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Where did you find it? I'm sorry I was cross! I'm sorry I called you stupid and ugly and hobbling! You have bright eyes. I did not notice them before. Yes, they are really beautiful, all golden like my comb."

And Lesa bent and stroked Wrinkled Brown Toad on his ugly head; and, ever after that, they were friends.

BILLY BOBTAIL.

Once upon a time a little boy named Billy Bobtail went to seek his fortune; and on the road he met a bull.

"Moo, moo, moo!" said the bull. "Where are you going, Billy Bobtail?"

"Oh, I'm going to seek my fortune!" said Billy Bobtail.