Bumble tilts her head back, antennae brushing the warm sun. She scans the meadow horizon. "The biggest flower!" she buzzes.
She drops onto a clover and pokes it with one leg. Too small. She zooms away, wings whirring, eyes locked on the far edge of the field.
Bumble hovers before a blue butterfly. "Which one's the biggest?" The butterfly flutters left, out of reach.
She lands on the tall daisies, pokes, checks. Not big enough. A ladybug on a blade of grass taps its wing toward the roses.
Bumble hovers over the roses. Pretty, but still not the biggest. She circles once more, then banks away.
An old snail inches across a wide white petal. Bumble lowers her buzzing to a polite hum. "And you? Biggest flower?"
The snail lifts its eyestalks and blinks, slow and steady. "Look down," it says, very quiet.
Bumble looks down. Her little feet are planted on the widest, roundest flower in the whole meadow — a golden dandelion with a center like a teacup saucer.
She tilts her head back at the daisies and the roses. They look tiny. Her wings go still. She thought: Oh.
She sinks her legs into the soft golden center, antennae curling along each petal's edge. A low hum fills her wings. Below, the snail inches past. She watches it go, then curls tighter into the warm, wide flower.