question. "But there's something I don't quite understand. I've seen men
sawing wood before, but they made no such sound as this."

Old dog Spot couldn't help smiling the least bit.

"Why, those men aren't sawing wood. They're _fiddling_," he explained;
"three fiddlers fiddling upon fiddles.... There's going to be a dance,
you know," old dog Spot continued. "And of course nobody cares to dance
without music."

"Oh, certainly not!" Buster Bumblebee agreed. And he began to be glad he
had come to the farmyard, after all. You see, he was fond of music and
dancing. And he thought the music played by the three fiddlers was too
wonderful for words.

Soon the floor was crowded with merry people who bowed and scraped to one
another and danced breakdowns and cut pigeon-wings and other capers,
while Buster Bumblebee flitted gaily about just above their bobbing
heads, trying his best to keep time to the music and wishing that he had
brought some of his friends along with him to Farmer Green's party.

As for the raising bee, Buster had completely forgotten it. He was having
so much fun at the dance that the real reason for his coming to Farmer
Green's place had quite slipped out of his mind.




XXI