``What a time the lark has been gone!'' she
cried at last. ``I wonder where he is just now. He
must have flown higher than usual this time. How
I should like to know where he goes, and what he
hears in that curious blue sky! He always sings
going up and coming down, but he never lets any
secret out.''
And the green caterpillar took another turn
round the butterfly's eggs.
At last the lark's voice began to be heard again.
The caterpillar almost jumped for joy, and it was
not long before she saw her friend descend with
hushed note to the cabbage bed.
``News, news, glorious news, friend caterpillar!''
sang the lark, ``but the worst of it is, you won't
believe me!''
``I believe anything I am told,'' said the
caterpillar hastily.
``Well, then, first of all, I will tell you what
those little creatures are to eat''--and the lark
nodded his head toward the eggs. ``What do you
think it is to be? Guess!''
``Dew and honey out of the flowers, I am
afraid!'' sighed the caterpillar.
``No such thing, my good friend,'' cried the
lark exultantly; ``you are to feed them with
cabbage-leaves!''
``Never!'' said the caterpillar indignantly.
``It was their mother's last request that I should
feed them on dew and honey.''
``Their mother knew nothing about the matter,''
answered the lark; ``but why do you ask
me, and then disbelieve what I say? You have
neither faith nor trust.
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