And the reed-warblers laughed and peeped down to see what on earth was going to come of it; and the youngsters were told as much of it as their little brains could take in, and they peeped too. The spider ran up and looked on, the May-fly grub was nearly jumping out of her cocoon with curiosity. The bladder-wort forgot to catch insects, the water-lily and the spear-wort stopped quarrelling; they all stared at the cray-fish and the roach. For they had all heard something of what was at hand, one from the other. But none of them said a word, lest they should frighten away the roach; he was the only one who had not the least suspicion. Only the reeds whispered softly to one another. But this they always do, so nobody minds them. Just then a gull swooped down upon the roach. It made such a splash in the water that no one could quite see what happened. But the roach was gone, and presently the reed-warblers exclaimed: "Look!... Look!... There's the gull flying with the roach ... and the cray-fish is hanging on to his hind-toe!" The water-lily and the spear-wort shouted the news and the rushes whispered it on and soon there was not a midge-grub in the pond but knew all about the extraordinary thing that had happened. "So she had her way," said the reed-warblers. And they discussed for quite an hour where she would be likely to arrive, but no one could work that out and none of those in the pond ever got to know. Only the woman who lived by the pond knew. For, when the gull came above the chimney of her little cottage, he gave such a kick with his leg that the cray-fish dropped off. She went right down the woman's chimney; and there stood a pot of boiling water, which she fell into. "Oh dear!" said the cray-fish. "That was a silly business." It was so silly that she turned as red as fire all over her body and died then and there. But, when the woman took her pot and was going to make herself a drop of coffee, she stared in amazement at that fine big cray-fish: "Well, I never!" she said. "Best thanks to whoever sent you." Then she ate her. That same evening, the May-fly broke through her cocoon. She flew up, on tiny little thin, transparent wings and with three long threads hanging from her abdomen to help her keep her balance. [Illustration] "I say, isn't this lovely?" she cried. "How delicious life is! It's worth while living for ever so many days as a poor grub, if only one is permitted to gaze upon this splendour for an hour." "Oh, so you're there, are you?" said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "You look very nice." "Thank you," said the May-fly. "Now I must just go round the pond and lay my eggs. Then I'll come back and sit down in the reeds and die; and then you can eat me. And a thousand thanks to you for sparing my life that time and for warning me when I was in danger. If you hadn't done that, I should never have beheld this glorious sight."