THE elderly lady-bee who helped the baby-bee Maya when she awoke to life and slipped from her cell was called Cassandra and commanded great respect in the hive. Those were exciting days. A rebellion had broken out in the nation of bees, which the queen was unable to suppress.
While the experienced Cassandra wiped Maya’s large bright eyes and tried as best she could to arrange her delicate wings, the big hive hummed and buzzed like a threatening thunderstorm, and the baby-bee found it very warm and said so to her companion.
Cassandra looked about troubled, without 2 replying. It astonished her that the child so soon found something to criticize. But really the child was right: the heat and the pushing and crowding were almost unbearable. Maya saw an endless succession of bees go by in such swarming haste that sometimes one climbed up and over another, or several rolled past together clotted in a ball.
Once the queen-bee approached. Cassandra and Maya were jostled aside. A drone, a friendly young fellow of immaculate appearance, came to their assistance. He nodded to Maya and stroked the shining hairs on his breast rather nervously with his foreleg. (The bees use their forelegs as arms and hands.)
“The crash will come,” he said to Cassandra. “The revolutionists will leave the city. A new queen has already been proclaimed.”
Cassandra scarcely noticed him. She did not even thank him for his help, and Maya felt keenly conscious that the old lady was not a bit nice to the young gentleman. The child was a little afraid to ask questions, the impressions were coming so thick and fast; they 3 threatened to overwhelm her. The general excitement got into her blood, and she set up a fine, distinct buzzing.
“What do you mean by that?” said Cassandra. “Isn’t there noise enough as it is?”
Maya subsided at once, and looked at Cassandra questioningly.
“Come here, child, we’ll see if we cannot quiet down a bit.” Cassandra took Maya by her gleaming wings, which were still soft and new and marvelously transparent, and shoved her into an almost deserted corner beside a few honeycombs filled with honey.
Maya stood still and held on to one of the cells.
“It smells delicious here,” she observed.
Her remark seemed to fluster the old lady again.
“You must learn to wait, child,” she replied. “I have brought up several hundred young bees this spring and given them lessons for their first flight, but I haven’t come across another one that was as pert and forward as you are. You seem to be an exceptional nature.”
4
Maya blushed and stuck the two dainty fingers of her hand in her mouth.
“Exceptional nature—what is an exceptional nature?” she asked shyly.
“Oh, that’s not nice,” cried Cassandra, referring not to Maya’s question, which she had scarcely heeded, but to the child’s sticking her fingers in her mouth. “Now, listen. Listen very carefully to what I am going to tell you. I can devote only a short time to you. Other baby-bees have already slipped out, and the only helper I have on this floor is Turka, and Turka is dreadfully overworked and for the last few days has been complaining of a buzzing in her ears. Sit down here.”
Maya obeyed, with great brown eyes fastened on her teacher.
“The first rule that a young bee must learn,” said Cassandra, and sighed, “is that every bee, in whatever it thinks and does, must be like the other bees and must always have the good of all in mind. In our order of society, which we have held to be the right one from time immemorial and which couldn’t have been better preserved than it has been, this rule is 5 the one fundamental basis for the well-being of the state. To-morrow you will fly out of the hive, an older bee will accompany you. At first you will be allowed to fly only short stretches and you will have to observe everything, very carefully, so that you can find your way back home again. Your companion will show you the hundred flowers and blossoms that yield the best nectar. You’ll have to learn them by heart. This is something no bee can escape doing.—Here, you may as well learn the first line right away—clover and honeysuckle. Repeat it. Say ‘clover and honeysuckle.’”
“I can’t,” said little Maya. “It’s awfully hard. I’ll see the flowers later anyway.”
Cassandra opened her old eyes wide and shook her head.
“You’ll come to a bad end,” she sighed. “I can foresee that already.”
“Am I supposed later on to gather nectar all day long?” asked Maya.
Cassandra fetched a deep sigh and gazed at the baby-bee seriously and sadly.
"1100175184"
While the experienced Cassandra wiped Maya’s large bright eyes and tried as best she could to arrange her delicate wings, the big hive hummed and buzzed like a threatening thunderstorm, and the baby-bee found it very warm and said so to her companion.
Cassandra looked about troubled, without 2 replying. It astonished her that the child so soon found something to criticize. But really the child was right: the heat and the pushing and crowding were almost unbearable. Maya saw an endless succession of bees go by in such swarming haste that sometimes one climbed up and over another, or several rolled past together clotted in a ball.
Once the queen-bee approached. Cassandra and Maya were jostled aside. A drone, a friendly young fellow of immaculate appearance, came to their assistance. He nodded to Maya and stroked the shining hairs on his breast rather nervously with his foreleg. (The bees use their forelegs as arms and hands.)
“The crash will come,” he said to Cassandra. “The revolutionists will leave the city. A new queen has already been proclaimed.”
Cassandra scarcely noticed him. She did not even thank him for his help, and Maya felt keenly conscious that the old lady was not a bit nice to the young gentleman. The child was a little afraid to ask questions, the impressions were coming so thick and fast; they 3 threatened to overwhelm her. The general excitement got into her blood, and she set up a fine, distinct buzzing.
“What do you mean by that?” said Cassandra. “Isn’t there noise enough as it is?”
Maya subsided at once, and looked at Cassandra questioningly.
“Come here, child, we’ll see if we cannot quiet down a bit.” Cassandra took Maya by her gleaming wings, which were still soft and new and marvelously transparent, and shoved her into an almost deserted corner beside a few honeycombs filled with honey.
Maya stood still and held on to one of the cells.
“It smells delicious here,” she observed.
Her remark seemed to fluster the old lady again.
“You must learn to wait, child,” she replied. “I have brought up several hundred young bees this spring and given them lessons for their first flight, but I haven’t come across another one that was as pert and forward as you are. You seem to be an exceptional nature.”
4
Maya blushed and stuck the two dainty fingers of her hand in her mouth.
“Exceptional nature—what is an exceptional nature?” she asked shyly.
“Oh, that’s not nice,” cried Cassandra, referring not to Maya’s question, which she had scarcely heeded, but to the child’s sticking her fingers in her mouth. “Now, listen. Listen very carefully to what I am going to tell you. I can devote only a short time to you. Other baby-bees have already slipped out, and the only helper I have on this floor is Turka, and Turka is dreadfully overworked and for the last few days has been complaining of a buzzing in her ears. Sit down here.”
Maya obeyed, with great brown eyes fastened on her teacher.
“The first rule that a young bee must learn,” said Cassandra, and sighed, “is that every bee, in whatever it thinks and does, must be like the other bees and must always have the good of all in mind. In our order of society, which we have held to be the right one from time immemorial and which couldn’t have been better preserved than it has been, this rule is 5 the one fundamental basis for the well-being of the state. To-morrow you will fly out of the hive, an older bee will accompany you. At first you will be allowed to fly only short stretches and you will have to observe everything, very carefully, so that you can find your way back home again. Your companion will show you the hundred flowers and blossoms that yield the best nectar. You’ll have to learn them by heart. This is something no bee can escape doing.—Here, you may as well learn the first line right away—clover and honeysuckle. Repeat it. Say ‘clover and honeysuckle.’”
“I can’t,” said little Maya. “It’s awfully hard. I’ll see the flowers later anyway.”
Cassandra opened her old eyes wide and shook her head.
“You’ll come to a bad end,” she sighed. “I can foresee that already.”
“Am I supposed later on to gather nectar all day long?” asked Maya.
Cassandra fetched a deep sigh and gazed at the baby-bee seriously and sadly.
The Adventures of Maya the Bee (Illustrated)
THE elderly lady-bee who helped the baby-bee Maya when she awoke to life and slipped from her cell was called Cassandra and commanded great respect in the hive. Those were exciting days. A rebellion had broken out in the nation of bees, which the queen was unable to suppress.
While the experienced Cassandra wiped Maya’s large bright eyes and tried as best she could to arrange her delicate wings, the big hive hummed and buzzed like a threatening thunderstorm, and the baby-bee found it very warm and said so to her companion.
Cassandra looked about troubled, without 2 replying. It astonished her that the child so soon found something to criticize. But really the child was right: the heat and the pushing and crowding were almost unbearable. Maya saw an endless succession of bees go by in such swarming haste that sometimes one climbed up and over another, or several rolled past together clotted in a ball.
Once the queen-bee approached. Cassandra and Maya were jostled aside. A drone, a friendly young fellow of immaculate appearance, came to their assistance. He nodded to Maya and stroked the shining hairs on his breast rather nervously with his foreleg. (The bees use their forelegs as arms and hands.)
“The crash will come,” he said to Cassandra. “The revolutionists will leave the city. A new queen has already been proclaimed.”
Cassandra scarcely noticed him. She did not even thank him for his help, and Maya felt keenly conscious that the old lady was not a bit nice to the young gentleman. The child was a little afraid to ask questions, the impressions were coming so thick and fast; they 3 threatened to overwhelm her. The general excitement got into her blood, and she set up a fine, distinct buzzing.
“What do you mean by that?” said Cassandra. “Isn’t there noise enough as it is?”
Maya subsided at once, and looked at Cassandra questioningly.
“Come here, child, we’ll see if we cannot quiet down a bit.” Cassandra took Maya by her gleaming wings, which were still soft and new and marvelously transparent, and shoved her into an almost deserted corner beside a few honeycombs filled with honey.
Maya stood still and held on to one of the cells.
“It smells delicious here,” she observed.
Her remark seemed to fluster the old lady again.
“You must learn to wait, child,” she replied. “I have brought up several hundred young bees this spring and given them lessons for their first flight, but I haven’t come across another one that was as pert and forward as you are. You seem to be an exceptional nature.”
4
Maya blushed and stuck the two dainty fingers of her hand in her mouth.
“Exceptional nature—what is an exceptional nature?” she asked shyly.
“Oh, that’s not nice,” cried Cassandra, referring not to Maya’s question, which she had scarcely heeded, but to the child’s sticking her fingers in her mouth. “Now, listen. Listen very carefully to what I am going to tell you. I can devote only a short time to you. Other baby-bees have already slipped out, and the only helper I have on this floor is Turka, and Turka is dreadfully overworked and for the last few days has been complaining of a buzzing in her ears. Sit down here.”
Maya obeyed, with great brown eyes fastened on her teacher.
“The first rule that a young bee must learn,” said Cassandra, and sighed, “is that every bee, in whatever it thinks and does, must be like the other bees and must always have the good of all in mind. In our order of society, which we have held to be the right one from time immemorial and which couldn’t have been better preserved than it has been, this rule is 5 the one fundamental basis for the well-being of the state. To-morrow you will fly out of the hive, an older bee will accompany you. At first you will be allowed to fly only short stretches and you will have to observe everything, very carefully, so that you can find your way back home again. Your companion will show you the hundred flowers and blossoms that yield the best nectar. You’ll have to learn them by heart. This is something no bee can escape doing.—Here, you may as well learn the first line right away—clover and honeysuckle. Repeat it. Say ‘clover and honeysuckle.’”
“I can’t,” said little Maya. “It’s awfully hard. I’ll see the flowers later anyway.”
Cassandra opened her old eyes wide and shook her head.
“You’ll come to a bad end,” she sighed. “I can foresee that already.”
“Am I supposed later on to gather nectar all day long?” asked Maya.
Cassandra fetched a deep sigh and gazed at the baby-bee seriously and sadly.
While the experienced Cassandra wiped Maya’s large bright eyes and tried as best she could to arrange her delicate wings, the big hive hummed and buzzed like a threatening thunderstorm, and the baby-bee found it very warm and said so to her companion.
Cassandra looked about troubled, without 2 replying. It astonished her that the child so soon found something to criticize. But really the child was right: the heat and the pushing and crowding were almost unbearable. Maya saw an endless succession of bees go by in such swarming haste that sometimes one climbed up and over another, or several rolled past together clotted in a ball.
Once the queen-bee approached. Cassandra and Maya were jostled aside. A drone, a friendly young fellow of immaculate appearance, came to their assistance. He nodded to Maya and stroked the shining hairs on his breast rather nervously with his foreleg. (The bees use their forelegs as arms and hands.)
“The crash will come,” he said to Cassandra. “The revolutionists will leave the city. A new queen has already been proclaimed.”
Cassandra scarcely noticed him. She did not even thank him for his help, and Maya felt keenly conscious that the old lady was not a bit nice to the young gentleman. The child was a little afraid to ask questions, the impressions were coming so thick and fast; they 3 threatened to overwhelm her. The general excitement got into her blood, and she set up a fine, distinct buzzing.
“What do you mean by that?” said Cassandra. “Isn’t there noise enough as it is?”
Maya subsided at once, and looked at Cassandra questioningly.
“Come here, child, we’ll see if we cannot quiet down a bit.” Cassandra took Maya by her gleaming wings, which were still soft and new and marvelously transparent, and shoved her into an almost deserted corner beside a few honeycombs filled with honey.
Maya stood still and held on to one of the cells.
“It smells delicious here,” she observed.
Her remark seemed to fluster the old lady again.
“You must learn to wait, child,” she replied. “I have brought up several hundred young bees this spring and given them lessons for their first flight, but I haven’t come across another one that was as pert and forward as you are. You seem to be an exceptional nature.”
4
Maya blushed and stuck the two dainty fingers of her hand in her mouth.
“Exceptional nature—what is an exceptional nature?” she asked shyly.
“Oh, that’s not nice,” cried Cassandra, referring not to Maya’s question, which she had scarcely heeded, but to the child’s sticking her fingers in her mouth. “Now, listen. Listen very carefully to what I am going to tell you. I can devote only a short time to you. Other baby-bees have already slipped out, and the only helper I have on this floor is Turka, and Turka is dreadfully overworked and for the last few days has been complaining of a buzzing in her ears. Sit down here.”
Maya obeyed, with great brown eyes fastened on her teacher.
“The first rule that a young bee must learn,” said Cassandra, and sighed, “is that every bee, in whatever it thinks and does, must be like the other bees and must always have the good of all in mind. In our order of society, which we have held to be the right one from time immemorial and which couldn’t have been better preserved than it has been, this rule is 5 the one fundamental basis for the well-being of the state. To-morrow you will fly out of the hive, an older bee will accompany you. At first you will be allowed to fly only short stretches and you will have to observe everything, very carefully, so that you can find your way back home again. Your companion will show you the hundred flowers and blossoms that yield the best nectar. You’ll have to learn them by heart. This is something no bee can escape doing.—Here, you may as well learn the first line right away—clover and honeysuckle. Repeat it. Say ‘clover and honeysuckle.’”
“I can’t,” said little Maya. “It’s awfully hard. I’ll see the flowers later anyway.”
Cassandra opened her old eyes wide and shook her head.
“You’ll come to a bad end,” she sighed. “I can foresee that already.”
“Am I supposed later on to gather nectar all day long?” asked Maya.
Cassandra fetched a deep sigh and gazed at the baby-bee seriously and sadly.
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The Adventures of Maya the Bee (Illustrated)
The Adventures of Maya the Bee (Illustrated)
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940149448524 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Lost Leaf Publications |
| Publication date: | 03/03/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 958 KB |
| Age Range: | 6 - 8 Years |
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