It is not surprising that the Carpenter's answer failed to satisfy Buster Bumblebee.

"I really must know when my house will be ready!" he cried at last. "I've invited all my friends to a house-warming. And how can I have one unless I have a house to warm?"

The Carpenter slowly shook his head.

"Don't ask me!" he said wearily. "I've enough to trouble me right here at home without answering any riddles for strangers."

"I suppose you'll get your house finished sometime," Buster ventured.

"I hope to," said the Carpenter, "though it certainly won't be to-morrow, on account of all the interruptions I'm having to-day."

Now, that honest workman meant his remark to be a hint. But the idea never occurred to Buster that the Carpenter had him in mind, when he mentioned interruptions. And Buster went right on talking.

"I'd suggest that you work nights as well as in the daytime," he said.

"I'll think about it," the Carpenter promised. "And now," he added, "now I must go back to my carpentering—if you'll excuse me."

And before Buster could say another word the Carpenter slipped through his doorway and vanished.

"I hope he'll do as I suggested," Buster Bumblebee said to himself, as he moved aimlessly away from the big poplar where the Carpenter lived. "If I shouldn't get my house until cold weather comes I don't see how I could have a house-warming; and then all my friends would be disappointed."

The more he thought about the matter the more disturbed he became, until at last (on the following day) he felt that he simply must go back and speak to the Carpenter again.

Buster noticed, as he drew near to the Carpenter's house once more, that there was a crowd in the Carpenter's dooryard. Everybody looked so sorrowful that Buster was sure something dreadful had happened.

"What's the matter?" he asked little Mrs. Ladybug, who was wiping her eyes with a lace pocket-handkerchief.

"It's the Carpenter," she answered, as soon as she could speak. "He's disappeared. And now we've just heard what's become of him. Johnnie Green caught him yesterday and has made him a prisoner!"

That was bad news indeed—for Buster Bumblebee. He was so sorry that he swallowed hard three or four times before he could say a word. And then he began to groan.

"This is terrible!" he moaned at last. And all the Carpenter's neighbors gathered around him and said what a kind-hearted young gentleman he was, but that it was no more than you might expect of a queen's son.

"The Carpenter must have been a dear friend of yours," quavered old Daddy Longlegs, tottering up to Buster and peering into his face.

"Oh, no!" said Buster Bumblebee. "But he promised to build a house for me as soon as he had finished working on his own. So his being a prisoner is pretty hard on me. For I've invited all my friends to a house-warming and I don't know what to do."