ights went by, and no one came; at last when some one did
come, it was only to put some great boxes into the corner. Now the tree
was quite covered; it seemed as if it had been quite forgotten.

'Now it is winter out-doors,' thought the fir-tree. 'The ground is hard
and covered with snow, they can't plant me yet, and that is why I am
staying here under cover till the spring comes. How thoughtful they are!
Only I wish it were not so terribly dark and lonely here; not even
a little hare! It was so nice out in the wood, when the snow lay all
around, and the hare leapt past me; yes, even when he leapt over me: but
I didn't like it then. It's so dreadfully lonely up here.'

'Squeak, squeak!' said a little mouse, stealing out, followed by a
second. They sniffed at the fir-tree, and then crept between its boughs.
'It's frightfully cold,' said the little mice. 'How nice it is to be
here! Don't you think so too, you old fir-tree?'

'I'm not at all old,' said the tree; 'there are many much older than I
am.'

'Where do you come from?' asked the mice, 'and what do you know?' They
were extremely inquisitive. 'Do tell us about the most beautiful
place in the world. Is that where you come from? Have you been in the
storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from the
ceiling, where one dances on tallow candles, and where one goes in thin
and comes out fat?'

'I know nothing about that,' said the tree. 'But I know the wood, where
the sun shines, and the birds sing.' And then it told them all about
its young days, and the little mice had never heard anything like that
before, and they listened with all their ears, and said: 'Oh, how much
you have seen! How lucky you have been!'

'I?' said the fir-tree, and then it thought over what it had told them.
'Yes, on the whole those were very happy times.' But then it went on to
tell them about Christmas Eve, when it had been adorned with sweet-meats
and tapers.

'Oh!' said the little mice, 'how lucky you have been, you old fir-tree!'

'I'm not at all old' said the tree. 'I only came from the wood this
winter. I am only a little backward, perhaps, in my growth.'

'How beautifully you tell stories!' said the little mice. And next
evening they came with four others, who wanted to hear the tree's story,
and it told still more, for it remembered everything so clearly and
thought: 'Those were happy times! But they may come again. Humpty dumpty
fell downstairs, and yet he marr