‘Those are the white bees swarming there!’ said the old grandmother.
‘Have they a Queen bee?’ asked the little boy, for he knew that the real bees have one.
‘They have,’ said the grandmother. ‘She flies yonder where they swarm so thickly; she is the largest of them, and never remains upon the earth, but flies up again into the black cloud. Sometimes on a winter’s night she flies through the streets of the town, and breathes with her frosty breath upon the windows, and then they are covered with strange and beautiful forms, like trees and flowers.’

PART THE SECOND
A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL