window, which was shut, and which she could not see, but felt, and fell
to the floor again, where she apparently had brain-fever, buzzing round
and round on her back like a top the while.

And then, rising suddenly, the queen flew away, hitting nothing in the
process, but getting through the lower and open part of the window.
She seemed anxious to make sure of not getting into the house again.
She flew right away, rising high to top the garden hedge, and dropping
low on the far side, to buzz and poke about in and out, up along the
hedge-bank that bordered the hayfield.

She flew as one looking for something, and every insect in her way took
jolly good care--in the shape of scintillating streaks and dashes--to
get out of it. The mere sight of that yellow-banded cuirass shining in
the sun was apparently quite enough for them--most of them, anyway. As
a matter of fact, she was looking for a site for a city. She had
ambition, and would found her a city, a city of her very own, with
generous streets at right angles, on the American plan; and she would
be queen of it. It was a big idea, and we should have said an
impossible one, seeing that at that moment she was the city and its
population and its queen all rolled into one, so to speak.
Queen-wasps, however, also on the American plan, ruled the word
"impossible" out of their dictionary long ago. They "attempt the end,
and never stand to doubt."

The queen came to rest on a bare patch of ground an front of a hole,
and a black and hairy spider, with two hindlegs missing on the offside,
spun round in the entrance of that hole to face her. He had not been
noticeable until he moved.