“First the bee rolls delightedly among the stamens to cover itself with pollen. Then it passes and re-passes over its velvety body the extremities of its hind legs, where is found a square piece bristling on the inside with short and rough hairs which serve as a brush. The grains of pollen scattered over the down of the insect are thus gathered together into a little pellet, which the intermediary legs seize in order to place it in one or other of the baskets. They call by this name a hollow edged with hair on the outside of the hind legs, a little above the brushes. It is there the pellets of pollen are piled up as fast as the brushes gather them on the powdery down. The load does not fall, because it is held by the hairs that edge the basket; it is also stuck against the bottom. The queen and the drones have not these working implements. Utensils are useless to those who do not work.” “The little yellow masses one sees on the hind legs of bees visiting the flowers are loads of pollen contained in the baskets?” asked Jules. “Exactly. The bee has lapped so much sweet from the corollas, has brushed its pollen-powdered sides so often, that finally the crop is full and the baskets are running over. It is time to go back to the hive, time for a flight made heavy with so much treasure. “Let us take advantage of the time used in the return journey to inform ourselves about the origin of honey. The bee carries with it a sugary liquor in its crop, two balls of pollen in its baskets; but all that is not yet honey. Real honey the bee prepares with the ingredients that we have just seen it gather; it cooks it, lets it simmer in its crop. Its little stomach is better than a real pot for carrying: it is an admirable alembic, in which the liquid that has been lapped up and the grains of pollen that have been nibbled are worked by digestion and converted into a delicious marmalade, which is honey. This skilful cooking finished, the content of the crop is honey. “The bee arrives at the hive. If by good fortune the queen-mother is encountered, the workman does reverence to her and offers her, from mouth to mouth, a sip of honey, the first from its crop. Then it seeks an empty cell, inserts its head into the storeroom, projects its tongue, and spits out the contents of its stomach; and there you have real honey disgorged by the bee.” “Is it all disgorged?” Emile asked. “Not all. The crop’s contents are usually divided into three parts: one for the nurses that remain in the hive to do the housework; a second for the little ones still in the nest; a third kept by the bee that has prepared the honey. Must it not have food in order to work well?” “Then bees feed on honey?” “Without a doubt. You imagined perhaps that bees made honey expressly for man. Undeceive yourself: bees make honey for themselves and not for us. We plunder their riches.” “What becomes of the little balls of pollen?” inquired Jules.