with the Little Fir Tree, just as he had often begged the wind and the
snow and the birds to do. He felt their soft little touches on his head
and his twigs and his branches. When he looked down at himself, as far
as he could look, he saw that he was all hung with gold and silver
chains! There were strings of white fluffy stuff drooping around him;
his twigs held little gold nuts and pink, rosy balls and silver stars;
he had pretty little pink and white candles in his arms; but last, and
most wonderful of all, the children hung a beautiful white, floating
doll-angel over his head! The Little Fir Tree could not breathe, for joy
and wonder. What was it that he was, now? Why was this glory for him?

After a time every one went away and left him. It grew dusk, and the
Little Fir Tree began to hear strange sounds through the closed doors.
Sometimes he heard a child crying. He was beginning to be lonely. It
grew more and more shadowy.

All at once, the doors opened and the two children came in. Two of the
pretty ladies were with them. They came up to the Little Fir Tree and
quickly lighted all the little pink and white candles. Then the two
pretty ladies took hold of the table with the Little Fir Tree on it and
pushed it, very smoothly and quickly, out of the doors, across a hall,
and in at another door.

The Little Fir Tree had a sudden sight of a long room with many little
white beds in it, of children propped up on pillows in the beds, and of
other children in great wheeled chairs, and others hobbling about or
sitting in little chairs. He wondered why all the little children looked
so white and tired; he did not know that he was in a hospital. But
before he could wonder any more his breath was quite taken away by the
shout those little white children gave.