" The only sort of house I know how to make," 

 the caterpillar answered humbly. 



" I never heard of anything so absurd. Why 

 don't you hunt about and find a hollow tree, or a 

 good hive, and live in that ? Then you would be 

 safe." 



" Or you might find a hole under a stone," added 

 the ant. " That's a very good place." 



The caterpillar shook its head. " This is the 

 only sort of house I know how to make," it repeated. 

 Then it set to work again. 



As for the bee and the ant they went their ways. 

 " A poor sort of a house indeed," each one thought 

 to itself. 



But the caterpillar went on working. 



Up and down, up and down its head moved, 

 weaving and weaving. Now the silk was like a thin, 

 silvery veil about it. Through the veil you could 

 still faintly see the caterpillar moving. 



At last the veil grew so thick that you could not 

 see the caterpillar at all. You could only guess 

 that it might still be at work inside. 



After a while the bee came by that way again. 



It stopped and looked the little house all over. 

 Then it flew down to the ant-hill. " Miss Ant, Miss 



