At last one little spider took time enough to stopand talk to Wilbur before making its balloon."We're leaving here on the warm updraft.This is our moment for setting forth.We are aeronauts and we are going out into the world to make webs for ourselves.""But where?" asked Wilbur."Wherever the wind takes us.High, low. Near, far. East, west. North, south.We take to the breeze, we go as we please.""Are all of you going?" asked Wilbur."You can't all go. I would be left alone, with no friends.Your mother wouldn't want that to happen, I'm sure."The air was now so full of ballooniststhat the barn cellar looked almost as though a mist had gathered.Balloons by the dozen were rising, circling, and drifting away through the door,sailing off on the gentle wind.Cries of "Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!" came weakly to Wilbur's ears.He couldn't bear to watch any more.In sorrow he sank to the ground and closed his eyes.This seemed like the end of the world, to be deserted by Charlotte's children.Wilbur cried himself to sleep.
