"Good googly moogly! What is THAT thing?"
The big bee had been sitting there for a few days, now, and this is the first time Aloisius Treadwell has seen it. Picking it up leaves him astounded, flummoxed, confused, bamboozled. . . and reminded, as his shoulder blades give themselves an almost instinctive spasm, trying to flap wings long since mystically removed, leaving him the grumpy old ball of fun that he is this very day.
Treadwell soon enough puts his bumblebee replica back on the windowsill and makes his way off into the Myrken Wood streets.