Tilly the Tiny Ant woke up one sunny afternoon, stretched her legs, and did a little dance of delight. She could feel exciting adventures calling her name today. Scrambling out of her cozy home in the anthill, she greeted her neighbors with cheerful smiles and buzzing questions.
“What are you going to do today, Tilly?” asked Ian the industrious ant.
“I don’t know yet,” chirped back Tilly, a smile on her face, “but I’m sure it will be something wonderful.”
Tilly decided to wander over to the nearby garden, where her tiny little heart danced with joy at seeing all the colors and sounds around her. Just then, she heard someone crying sadly.
“I must see who needs help,” she told herself, rushing towards the voice.
Beneath a sunny dandelion bush, she chanced upon Snail, whose heavy shell was stuck in the prickly grass.
“Oh dear Snail,” she cried softly, “how did you get into this sticky mess? How can I help you?”
“Hello, Tilly. You are so very, very small to make any difference. But if you could bump and push against my shell, perhaps I can wiggle and get free,” he replied, rather hopelessly.
“I’ll try,” she said bravely and began running into the silvery shell with all her might. Slowly, but surely, the shell began to move, and Snail wiggled and squirmed to break free.
“Thank you, tiny Tilly,” beamed Snail with delight. As Tilly turned to continue her way, Margot the shabby butterfly fluttered by in a strange, zig-zag figure and suddenly thudded straight into Tilly’s back.
“Oh my poor wing,” she cried. “I feel so tired from buzzing about this warm day, and now I fear I shall not hover again.”
Tilly looked and saw the butterfly’s wing was marked and torn, and a small twig caught in the fuzzy hair at the tip of it. The pile of dust and tiny twigs hollowed out a mark in the silken wing.
“Can you not fly away home to your nest?” asked Tilly, who was really very little, and hardly knew what she might do herself.
“Crawl back to my home! Oh pray, never! It is miles and miles away, and at my age, I really cannot,” cried Margot. “How I wish I were like my kind neighbor, Fast Ben, whose nest is in the very soft bed of the moss! I would indeed get home quite quickly, and then if I could not fly, at least I should jump! But there is no use in talking about it now; I cannot go away at all.”
While the butterfly was talking, Tilly had crept nearer to her wing, to try to see what was the matter. She was far too small and she could not see very well; but presently, she detected the twig that was troublesome and, bending her head, tried to pick it out.
“It is not of the slightest use,” said Margot, quite crossly. “You are much too small to make any difference.”
“But I will try,” said Tilly, and set to work very bravely. Though Tilly’s head was small, her heart was big, and she felt as if she must do something to help friend Margot. So, with great courage, she hitched up her tiny round body and managed to get her tiny head inside the wing, where the twig stuck; bit by bit she slowly picked it out with her sharp little teeth. Dust flew around her, and she could feel little sharp stings where the thorny ends of the twigs hurt her tiny body; but she worked away, and always with words of comfort and courage to the butterfly.
“Drink a little nectar, and go on working if you can,” she said. “Shut your eyes, Margot, and think yourself home at the top of the tall elm-tree all a-buzz and a-float with the warm sun shining on your wings from the top of the sky above. Come back as soon again as you can, and tell me of all you see.”
At first, Margot looked-very closely at Tilly, and doubted if she were wise enough to help her; but her heart soon knit to Tilly’s courage, and then she shut her eyes and fell a-dreaming that she was home.
In what seemed only a few moments, Margot awoke with a flutter of joy and thanked Tilly for her kind help, who stepped back delighted to hear she was quite free.
Then said Dandelion, the good-natured flower, “Take my nectar and have your first tea-party in life, lady-bird! I never felt a hotter summer in my life, and I know Margot will feel quite revived directly.”
“Thank you,” cried Tilly, tipping a rosy little curtsy; but little Margot needed no second invitation and began to sip and sip.
“What did you feel most thankful for when you were resting in Dreamland just now?” asked little Tilly. Margot opened her gaudy-black-and-yellow eyes and looked around.
“I was grateful for being a butterfly, and for having all my friends, and my beautiful home high up in the green elm-tree, where it is so cool and fresh,” she said. “And you, my brave little friend, what did you think of most? I hope you had a pleasant sleep?”
“I did not sleep, Margot,” said Tilly.
“Did you not? And were you not a tiny bit tired at having to work so long all for me? Don’t you want to lie down a few moments and rest?”
“Yes, I am a tiny bit tired now,” confessed Tilly, blinking her eyes.
“I wish you could come home, fly up to the top of the elm-tree, and rest on the flowered china vase that Lady’s Bower keeps there for us; there are so many cottony white pads of brilliant silky fluff up there that one can rest upon,” said the butterfly, dreamily.
But Tilly sat feeling rather shy of flying up so high, and suddenly blew the Ild(old) question back to Margot.
“I feel But you never said what was your chiefest wish that made you thankful.”
“My happiest thought was,” said Margot, brightly, “that even small creatures like you and me can bring Happiness to our friends.”
“Ah, yes, that is what makes us Happy,” said Tilly, looking closer and closer into the black-and-yellow eyes until the very sunshine inside them sparkled.
“Goodbye, Tilly the Tiny Ant. Thank you for my kind tea-party,” and away floated Margot, dancing and turning in circling winds.
But Tilly dared not move until she said softly and half to herself, “How Happy we may make our friends, even when we feel quite too small and tiny to help them.”
And from that day to this, no matter how big or small we all are, we can always make somebody happy if we like.