But still there was a difficulty--whom should the Caterpillar consult? There was the shaggy Dog who sometimes came into the garden. But he was so rough!--he would most likely whisk all the eggs off the cabbage-leaf with one brush of his tail. There was the Tom Cat, to be sure, who would sometimes sit at the foot of the apple-tree, basking himself and warming his fur in the sunshine; but he was so selfish and indifferent! "I wonder which is the wisest of all the animals I know," sighed the Caterpillar, in great distress; and then she thought, and thought, till at last she thought of the Lark; and she fancied that because he went up so high, and nobody knew where he went to, he must be very clever, and know a great deal, for to go up very high (which _she_ could never do), was the Caterpillar's idea of perfect glory. Now in the neighbouring corn-field their lived a Lark, and the Caterpillar sent a message to him, to beg him to come and talk to her, and when he came she told him all her difficulties, and asked him what she was to do to feed and rear the little creatures so different from herself. "Perhaps you will be able to inquire and hear something about it next time you go up high," observed the Caterpillar, timidly. The Lark said, "Perhaps he should;" but he did not satisfy her curiosity any further. Soon afterwards, however, he went singing upwards into the bright, blue sky. By degrees his voice died away in the distance, till the green Caterpillar could not hear a sound. So she resumed her walk round the Butterfly's eggs, nibbling a bit of the cabbage-leaf now and then as she moved along. "What a time the Lark has been gone!" she cried, at last. "I wonder where he is just now! I would give all my legs to know!" And the green Caterpillar took another turn round the Butterfly's eggs. At last the Lark's voice began to be heard again. The Caterpillar almost jumped for joy, and it was not long before she saw her friend descend with hushed note to the cabbage bed. "News, news, glorious news, friend Caterpillar!" sang the Lark; "but the worst of it is, you won't believe me!" "I believe everything I am told," observed the Caterpillar, hastily. "Well, then, first of all, I will tell you what these little creatures are to eat. What do you think it is to be? Guess!" "Dew, and the honey out of flowers, I am afraid," sighed the Caterpillar. "No such thing, old lady! Something simpler than that. Something that _you_ can get at quite easily." "I can get at nothing quite easily but cabbage-leaves," murmured the Caterpillar, in distress. "Excellent! my good friend," cried the Lark, exultingly; "you have found it out. You are to feed them with cabbage-leaves." _"Never!"_ said the Caterpillar, indignantly. "It was their dying mother's last request that I should do no such thing." "Their dying mother knew nothing about the matter," persisted the lark; "but why do you ask me, and then disbelieve what I say? You have neither faith nor trust."