VI THE BEE BABY “The pleasure of your company to drink tea with the Princess,” it said. And the Others left all their occupations and came at once. She was expecting them, with the little tea-table set out and ready; but they might wash their hands in the Princess’s own bath-room, and have verbena water out of a tall bottle on them, if they liked; and they did—a great deal. [Illustration: ANDROMEDA “Poor Andromeda!” said the Princess. “She must have wished she had been born with piggy eyes and a turned-up nose when she found what came of her beauty. Here she is: chained to the rock, waiting for the sea monster to come and devour her, but still lovely.” “She isn’t chained _now_?” said Pat. “In the sky?” “Dear me, no! Never, since Perseus happened along with Medusa’s head in his wallet, and turned the sea monster into a rock. But this is the way they stand to be looked at,—a tableau, with Perseus coming to the rescue, and Cassiopeia looking on, thinking what a lucky escape they had, and that her child is truly much lovelier than any Nymph whatever. But she isn’t talking about it any more.” “Perhaps she would have thought so, just the same, if Andromeda had looked piggy,” observed Phyllisy. “Very true, Madam Owl,” agreed the Princess. “But whether or no, she certainly has four undeniably beautiful stars to wear—if anybody will find them for her.” ] The “tea” was in a high, cool, clinking pitcher of strange colored glass that let the light shine through, and it was golden and yet pinky, and tasted of fruits, but no kind any one could say. But they could have it in a teacup if they would rather. (The teapot was there too, by courtesy, to look on.) The Princess sat beside the table to pour it, with wide lace hanging over her arms, and coming out from under, but not catching when she handled the fragile cups, because she knew how—very deftly. Pat chose a yellow cup, with butterflies and tiny roses, and Miss Phyllisy took one, white and very thin, with a dragon coiled around it and a red curly handle; but the Kitten had hers in a tall glass like the pitcher, and so did the Princess. And there were delicious little cakes, the kind the Princess had, and never any one else. It was most refreshing and restful to hot little girls out of a garden. At last they said, “No, thank you, _really_,” when she asked if they would have another cup, because the cups were so small. Then the Princess went over to a comfortable chair near the long window, and watched the Others wandering about the room. Outside it would still be hot in the garden; but in the Princess’s own room it was cool and shaded, with interesting things to see, that they loved because they had seen them before. “Suppose there were an Indian Squaw (_and there was_),” said the Princess, “and she was weaving a beautiful basket.” “Is it that basket?” asked Pat.