The Tale of Buster Bumblebee | Page 2

true, too, that the Bumblebee family filled their house almost to
overflowing--especially when they began to store away great quantities
of honey in it. But they never seemed to mind being crowded. And if
any of them wanted more room he had only to go out of doors and get
it.
Buster Bumblebee's mother was the head of the whole family.
Everybody always spoke of her as "the Queen." And she never had to
lift her hand, because there were other members of the family that were
both ready and eager to do everything for her. She was really quite a
fine lady.
And it was generally understood that her son Buster favored his mother.
Certainly he was--like her--very handsome, in his suit of black and
yellow velvet. Like his mother, too, he never did a stroke of work. And
although everybody said that Buster Bumblebee was a drone, he never
seemed to mind it in the least.

II
CHIRPY CRICKET'S ADVICE
If the summers in Pleasant Valley had been longer perhaps the
honey-makers in Buster Bumblebee's home would have taken a holiday
now and then. But they knew that every day that passed brought cold
weather that much the nearer. So they never once stopped
working--except to sleep at night. And, like Farmer Green himself, they
felt that they must not waste any of the precious daylight by lying abed
late in the morning. They wanted to be up and in the clover field as
soon as it was light.
Now, with Rusty Wren living right beneath his bedroom window to
wake him at dawn, Farmer Green had no trouble in getting up in good
season. But the Bumblebee family were in no such luck. Even if Rusty
Wren had lived near them in the meadow they could scarcely have

heard his dawn song, because their home was beneath the surface of the
ground, in the old house that had once belonged to Mrs. Field Mouse.
If they could have found an alarm clock somewhere it would have been
easy for them to rise as early in the morning as they wished. But
lacking a clock of that kind--or any other--they had to find a different
way of waking themselves.
That was why the workers chose one of their number to be a trumpeter.
And it was her duty to get up bright and early, at three or four o'clock,
and trumpet loudly to rouse all the other workers.
How the trumpeter herself managed to awake is something that never
bothered anybody else. It was her business not to oversleep. And she
knew that it would be very unpleasant for her if she failed even once to
do her duty.
Now, it was all well enough for the workers to have the morning
silence broken by the blare of trumpeting. They were eager to get up
and begin their day's work. But Buster Bumblebee did not like that
arrangement in the least. He preferred a good, long night's sleep. And
since he never did any work he thought it was a shame that he should
be rudely awakened in such a fashion.
At home, however, he did not mention his grievance to anyone. But he
talked the matter over with a number of his friends--outside the family.
And one and all agreed that something ought to be done to put a stop to
the trumpeter's noise.
"Why don't you have a pleasant talk with her?" Chirpy Cricket
suggested. "Perhaps she would be willing to trumpet a little more softly
if she knew that she was disturbing you."
That plan did not quite suit Buster Bumblebee.
"It would be hard to have a pleasant talk with the trumpeter," he said.
"She's quite likely to lose her temper. And she might sting me if she
became angry enough."

"Then you must first put her in a good humor," Chirpy Cricket told him
cheerfully. "Begin by saying what a good trumpeter she is and tell her
that her hat is very becoming."
Still Buster Bumblebee was a bit doubtful of the outcome of the
scheme. But at last he agreed to give it a trial. "Though I must say I feel
quite nervous," he added. And all Chirpy Cricket's sprightly jokes
failed to make Buster smile.

III
THE RUDE TRUMPETER
Yes! At last Buster Bumblebee was worried. Every time he looked at
the trumpeter she seemed in a more peppery temper than ever. Beside
her, some of the other workers appeared positively pleasant. But the
trumpeter wore a frown. And what was still worse, she wore no hat.
How, then, was Buster to follow Chirpy Cricket's advice and tell her
what a becoming hat she was wearing?
"I'll have to think of some other way of making her feel happy--since
she's bareheaded,"