The silk disk, a sort of hardly concave paten, now no longer receives aught from the spinnerets in its centre; the marginal belt alone increases in thickness.  The piece thus becomes a bowl-shaped porringer, surrounded by a wide, flat edge.

The time for the laying has come.  With one quick emission, the viscous, pale-yellow eggs are laid in the basin, where they heap together in the shape of a globe which projects largely outside the cavity.  The spinnerets are once more set going.  With short movements, as the tip of the abdomen rises and falls to weave the round mat, they cover up the exposed hemisphere.  The result is a pill set in the middle of a circular carpet.

The legs, hitherto idle, are now working.  They take up and break off one by one the threads that keep the round mat stretched on the coarse supporting network.  At the same time, the fangs grip this sheet, lift it by degrees, tear it from its base and fold it over upon the globe of eggs.  It is a laborious operation.  The whole edifice totters, the floor collapses, fouled with sand.  By a movement of the legs, those soiled shreds are cast aside.  Briefly, by means of violent tugs of the fangs, which pull, and broom-like efforts of the legs, which clear away, the Lycosa extricates the bag of eggs and removes it as a clear-cut mass, free from any adhesion.

It is a white-silk pill, soft to the touch and glutinous.  Its size is that of an average cherry.  An observant eye will notice, running horizontally around the middle, a fold which a needle is able to raise without breaking it.  This hem, generally undistinguishable from the rest of the surf