s, and brandy in

Ink the clouds are,
and how the dew twinkles in the grass!
I never saw it so before," she said. "Because by the time you are up
the pretty pink
clouds are gone, and the thirsty grass has drank the dew, or the sun
has drawn it up to fall again at night for the flowers' evening bath,"
replied Wee, watching the soft color
that began to touch Daisy's pale cheeks. "I think we'd better look
under that cobweb spread like a tent over
the white clovers. A fairy would be very likely to creep in there and
sleep." Daisy knelt down and peeped carefully; but all

she saw was a little brown spider, who looked very much surprised to
see visitors so early. "I don't
like spiders," said Daisy, much disappointed. "There are things about
spiders as interesting to hear as fairy tales," said Wee. "This
is Mrs. Epeira Diadema; and she is a respectable, industrious little
neighbor. She spreads her tent, but sits under a leaf
near by, waiting for her breakfast. She wraps her eggs in a soft silken
bag, and hides them in some safe chink, where they lie till spring. The
eggs

are prettily carved and ornamented, and so hard that the baby spiders
have
to force their way out by biting the shell open and poking

their little heads through. The