made the leaves of the chestnut trees, wet with the morning dew,
still more brilliant. Agitated by a light breeze, they glistened in
the rays of the rising sun. Every blade of grass lifted its dewy
head as soon as a ray fell upon it, and each in its turn was crowned
with its halo of diamonds.

The flowers, in sweet accord, sent up their perfume towards heaven.
Already the lark had saluted the day with his brilliant song,
eternal hymn, ever repeated, never omitted. Every little bird sent
up his clear note and his joyous song from his nest; the insects
were beginning to hum. The sound of the voice of man, slow to join
in the morning prayer of the whole creation, was not yet heard when
Piccolissima, already awake, entered the garden.

She had obtained permission to do so the evening before. Her
mother's confidence had increased with the growing prudence and good
sense of the little girl; qualities which a habit of observation has
the effect of strengthening rapidly.

The child was desirous to witness the morning labors of the ants,
and to see how, when the dew had prepared their mortar, they built
their long galleries. They commenced their work at the top, and
Piccolissima would have liked to see them again raise and make their
walls. She was, however, disappointed in her purpose, either that
the earth dried too quick, as the sun was now high above the
horizon; or the tiny republicans, with six feet, were employed in
their interior halls, in bringing out the young ants, and were busy
tearing off the veils of silk which confined the larvae, and in
developing the wings of the males and females; or, whatever might be
the cause, the ant hills were deserted.