The Tale of Betsy Butterfly | Page 6

quite herself?" she asked him.
But Butterfly Bill was not a person to be easily silenced like that.
"She's a meddling busybody!" he declared. "And it's my opinion that she ought to be put where she'll have to mind her own business."
"Who--me?" called a wheezing voice right in his ear.
Turning, Butterfly Bill saw that it was Jennie Junebug who had spoken to him. She had noticed the crowd from a distance. And she had just arrived, quite out of breath.
Before Betsy Butterfly's cousin Bill could answer, Jennie Junebug actually threatened him.
"If you were talking about me I shall have to knock you down," she declared.
He had heard that Jennie delighted in flying bang into anybody. But he did not know that she indulged in that unladylike trick only after dark.
"Of course I didn't mean you!" he said hastily.
"And I hope you didn't mean my friend Mrs. Ladybug, either," Jennie Junebug added. "For if you did----"
But Butterfly Bill waited to hear no more. Thoroughly frightened, he sought safety in flight. And as he flew away Mrs. Ladybug couldn't help noticing the dust on his wings.
"They're certainly a peculiar lot--that Butterfly family!" she muttered.

VIII
DO YOU LIKE BUTTER?
AFTER Mrs. Ladybug failed in her attempt to brush the dust off Betsy Butterfly she grew more jealous of Betsy than ever.
It was really a shame that Mrs. Ladybug should feel like that. Usually she was quite harmless, even if she was a busybody and a gossip. But she simply couldn't forgive Betsy Butterfly for being so beautiful. And now Mrs. Ladybug began to neglect her children more than ever, in order to spy upon Betsy in the hope of discovering some new fault in her.
Betsy Butterfly soon noticed that wherever she went she was sure to see Mrs. Ladybug, who had a way of bobbing up in a most startling fashion. But Betsy was always quite polite to the jealous little creature. And she never failed to inquire for her health and that of her children as well, even if she met Mrs. Ladybug a dozen times a day.
For some reason Mrs. Ladybug seemed quite touchy, where her family was concerned.
"You don't need to ask about my children," she told Betsy at last in a somewhat sharp tone. "They are in the best of health. And I'll let you know in case they fall ill.... It's strange," she continued, "how everybody in this neighborhood is always prying into my household affairs."
Betsy Butterfly smiled to herself. She did not care to quarrel with Mrs. Ladybug--nor with anyone else, for that matter. So she abruptly changed the subject.
"Do you like butter?" she asked.
"Why, no!" said Mrs. Ladybug. "I don't care anything about it. At least, I never ate any."
"Then I don't see how you know whether you like it or not," Betsy observed, "unless you've looked into a buttercup to find out."
Mrs. Ladybug was interested, in spite of herself.
"Can a person tell by doing that?" she wanted to know.
"It's a sure way," said Betsy Butterfly. "I was just looking into this buttercup that I'm sitting on when you flew up and spoke to me."
"Do you like butter?" Mrs. Ladybug inquired.
"I'm afraid not," Betsy told her.
"I'd like to try, myself," Mrs. Ladybug exclaimed eagerly. "But I don't know how."
"It's simple enough," Betsy Butterfly replied. "You just look into a buttercup blossom.
"And if it makes your face yellow, then you're fond of butter--whether you ever had any or not."
So Mrs. Ladybug perched herself on a big blossom and peered earnestly into its cup.
"Is my face yellow?" she asked Betsy.
"I do believe it is!" Betsy Butterfly cried.
And Mrs. Ladybug looked much pleased.
"I've always known I had refined tastes," she remarked with a lofty air. "And now I'd like to sample a bit of butter; but I don't know where to find any."
"Butter? They make it at the farmhouse," Betsy informed her.
"Then perhaps Farmer Green's wife will let me have a little," Mrs. Ladybug said hopefully. "I'll go over to the farmhouse at once.... It's too bad you don't like butter, too," she added.
But secretly she was delighted that Betsy Butterfly had looked into a buttercup in vain.

IX
UNEXPECTED NEWS
LITTLE Mrs. Ladybug had a disappointment when she reached the farmhouse. She found, to her dismay, that she couldn't get inside it; for wire screens blocked her way through both doors and windows. And nobody paid the slightest attention to her when she stopped at the buttery window and asked if she couldn't please have a bit of butter.
There was plenty of golden butter right there in plain sight, since it happened to be churning day. And Farmer Green's wife, with her sleeves rolled above her elbows, was working busily on the other side of the window screen.
"I should think she might easily spare me a small sample!" Mrs. Ladybug cried at last. "I'm afraid