Most of them were still, but a few were fluttering about, to find good places.
"Oh, what pretty butterflies!" said Mary Bell.

"They have been flying about, I suppose, till they have got tired, and have stopped to rest.
But if I were a butterfly, I would rest upon flowers, and not upon the ground." Mary Bell paused and looked upon the butterflies a moment, and then said, "And now how shall I get by?
I am sure I don't want to tread upon those butterflies.

I will sit down here, myself, on a stone, and wait till they get rested and fly away.

Besides, I am tired myself, and _I_ shall get rested too." Just as she took her seat she saw that there was a little path, which diverged here from the main road, and turned into the woods a little way, seeming to come back again after a short distance.

There were many such little paths, here and there, running parallel to the main road.