120 THE LORE OF THE HONEY-BEE 
whole nation. Before her marriage-flight she was 
the least considered of all the colony ; now she is 
welcomed home with public ovation ; lauded, fed, 
and fondled; set up in the high place, a living 
symbol of the tens of thousands unborn. As in 
olden, savage times, the royal festivals had their 
human sacrifices, so this paramount day in the 
perfected communism of the bee-people must vent 
its rejoicing in slaughter. But it is not tribute of 
common slaves that is now to redden the State- 
shambles, nor will the work fall to the common 
executioner’s knife. There are captive queens in 
the citadel—a royal sacrifice ready to hand, and a 
royal blade hungering for the task. Once the 
queen has proved her intrinsic motherhood, and 
the first few worker-eggs have been laid in the 
comb, the guards will stand away from the royal 
prison-cells and let her wreak her will upon them. 
It is all very ghastly in a miniature way, yet very 
queenly, as old traditions of human queenhood go. 
She gives over her nursery-work gladly enough 
for a moment, and flies to the slaughter, tearing 
down the prison-doors, and putting each clamorous 
captive fiercely to the sword. 
Apart from this tragic element of sororicide, 
quickly over and soon forgotten in the general 
rejoicing, there is true romance in the early life- 
story of the Queen of the Bees—bridehood, wife- 
hood, widowhood, following hard upon each other, 
all in the space of a single hour. But in the 
