`Will you be a nurse for my children,’ said a butterfly to a quiet green caterpillar that was strolling along a cabbage-leaf.

`See these little eggs,’ continued the butterfly. `I do not know when they will come to life, and I feel very sick. Will you, kind, mild, green caterpillar, takes care of my baby butterflies? They cannot, of course, live on your rough food. You must give them early dew, and honey from the flowers. Oh, how dizzy I am! Caterpillar! You will remember about the food-‘

And with words, the poor butterfly died. The caterpillar had not even said `yes’ or `no’ to the request. She was left with the butterfly’s eggs.

`A pretty nurse he has chosen,’ she exclaimed,’ and a pretty business I have in hand. Why did she never ask a crawling creature like me to bring up her dainty little ones?’

However, the poor butterfly was dead, and the green caterpillar had a kind heart. So she decided to do her best. `Two heads are better than one’, said he. `I will consult some wise animal on the matter.’

The caterpillar thought and thought, till at last she thought of the lark. She thought that because he went up so high, he must know a great deal. So the caterpillar sent a message to the lark, begging him to come and talk to her.

When the dark came the caterpillar told him all her difficulties. How was she to feed and rear the little butterfly creatures?

`Perhaps you can find out the next time you go up high,’ suggested the caterpillar timidly.

`Perhaps I can,’ answered the lark; and then he went singing up into the bright, blue sky.

The caterpillar waited. `What a time the lark has been gone!’ he cried al last. `I wonder where he is just now’.

Al last the caterpillar heard the lark’s voice. She almost jumped for joy. It was not long before she saw her friend fly down to the cabbage bed.

`news, glorious news, friend caterpillar!’ sang the lark, `but the worst of it is, you won’t believe me1’

I believed everything I am told

`I believed everything I a told,’ said the caterpillar.

`Well, then I will tell you what those little creatures will eat,’ said the lark. `What do you think it is? Guess!’

`Dew a honey out of the flowers, I am afraid!’ the caterpillar sighed.

`No such thing, my good friend,’ cried the lark. `You are to feed them with cabbage-leaves.’

`Never!’ said the caterpillar indignantly. `It was their mother’s last request that I should feed them on dew and one.’

`There mother knew nothing about the matter,’ answered the lark. `But why do you ask me, and then not believe what I say?’

`Oh, I believe everything I am told,’ said the caterpillar.

`No you do not,’ replied the lark. `Why, caterpillar, what do you think those little eggs will turn out to be?’

`Butterflies, to be sure,’ said the caterpillar.

`Caterpillars,’ sang the lark. And the lark flew away.

`I thought the lark was wise and kind,’ said the mild, green caterpillar to her, beginning to walk round the eggs, `but I find I find that he is foolish and saucy instead. Perhaps he went up too high this time.’

`I would tell you ore if you would believe me,’ sang the lark, descending once more.

`I believe everything I am told,’ answered the caterpillar.

`Then I will tell you something else,’ cried the lark. `You will one ay be a butterfly yourself!’

`Tiresome bird,’ exclaimed the caterpillar, `You are making un of me. You are now cruel as well as foolish! Go away! I won’t ask for your advice again.’

`I told you that would not believe me,’ cried the lark.

`I believe everything I am told,’ the caterpillar said again, `everything that it is reasonable to believe. But to tell me that butterflies’ eggs are caterpillars, and that caterpillars stop crawling and become butterflies! Lark! You do not believe such nonsense yourself! You know it is impossible!’

`I know no such thing,’ said the lark. `When I hover over the cornfields, or go up into the sky. I see so many wonderful things that and never get beyond your cabbage leaf, that you call everything impossible.’

`Nonsense,’ should the caterpillar. `I know what’s possible and what’s not. Look at my long, green body, and many legs, and hen talk to me about having wings!’

At that moment she felt something at her side. She looked around: eight little green caterpillars were moving about. They had already made a hole in the cabbage leaf. They had broken out of the butterfly’s eggs!

Shame and amazement filed the caterpillar’s heart, but joy soon followed, for as the first wonder was possible, the second might be so too.

The caterpillar now talked of the time when she would become a butterfly. No one believed her, but she had learned a lesson from the lark. Then, as she was going into her chrysalis, she said, `I shall be a butterfly someday!’

But her friends thought she was crazy, and they said, `poor thing! Then she was a butterfly.