Morning in the flower garden, and the ant was all business — a big crumb of bread on his shoulder, six legs going at a dash. Chest puffed right out, he said, "Who's as quick as me!"
On a leaf a caterpillar was inching along — one fold, then another. The ant doubled over laughing. "Oh my, how slow you are!" The caterpillar looked up. "What's the hurry, friend? Everyone has a time of their own."
A few days later the caterpillar climbed a thin bamboo twig and wrapped itself away inside a little shell — quiet and still, hanging from the branch. "Let me rest a while… we'll meet again when the time is right."
That afternoon the ant came by and spotted the shell. He burst out giggling. "First you were slow, now you're stuck hanging there! Poor little thing." A soft voice drifted out from inside. "We'll meet when the time comes."
Night fell over the garden. The flowers had drifted off to sleep, and even the crickets had hushed. Under the moon, the little shell hung all by itself — silent and still. Do you know what was happening inside?
At the first light of dawn the dew-wet shell began to split. Out crept a little creature with two damp, crumpled wings. It spread them in the warm sun — red, and orange, and gold! "These wings… can they really be mine?"
Wings spread wide, the butterfly lifted into the air — flutter, flutter! Down below, the ant stared open-mouthed. Circling once overhead, the butterfly smiled. "Today the whole sky is my road. Didn't I tell you? Everyone's time comes at last."
Drifting up over the marigolds and the hibiscus, the butterfly melted away into the far blue sky. The ant puffed out his chest no more. He simply watched, quiet now.