not shine so hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone.
Yes, when the summer had passed, they would keep the wedding.

But she was not at all pleased about it, for she did not like the
stupid mole. Every morning when the sun was rising, and every evening
when it was setting, she would steal out of the house-door, and when
the breeze parted the ears of corn so that she could see the blue sky
through them, she thought how bright and beautiful it must be outside,
and longed to see her dear swallow again. But he never came; no doubt
he had flown away far into the great green wood.

By the autumn Thumbelina had finished the dowry.

'In four weeks you will be married!' said the field-mouse; 'don't be
obstinate, or I shall bite you with my sharp white teeth! You will get
a fine husband! The King himself has not such a velvet coat. His
store-room and cellar are full, and you should be thankful for that.'

[Illustration: Thumbelina Has to Spin]

Well, the wedding-day arrived. The mole had come to fetch Thumbelina
to live with him deep down under the ground, never to come out into
the warm sun again, for that was what he didn't like. The poor little
girl was very sad; for now she must say good-bye to the beautiful sun.

'Farewell, bright sun!' she cried, stretching out her arms towards it,
and taking another step outside the house; for now the corn had been
reaped, and only the dry stubble was left standing. 'Farewell,
farewell!' she said, and put her arms round a little red flower that
grew there. 'Give my love to the dear swallow when you see him!'

'Tweet, tweet!' sounded in her ear all at once. She looked up. There
was the swallow flying past! As soon as he saw Thumbelina, he was very
glad. She told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly mole, as
then she had to live underground where the sun never shone, and she
could not help bursting into tears.

'The cold winter is coming now,' said the swallow. 'I must fly away to
warmer lands: will you come with me? You can sit on my back, and we
will fly far away from the ugly mole and his dark house, over the
mountains, to the warm countries where the sun shines more brightly
than here, where it is always summer, and there are always beautiful
flowers. Do come with me, dear little Thumbelina, who saved my life
when I lay frozen in the dark tunnel!'

'Yes, I will go with you,' said Thumbelina, and got on the swallow's
back, with her feet on one of his outstretc