"Where are they going?" asked the fir tree. "They are not taller than
I am; indeed, one is not so tall. And why do they keep all their
branches? Where are they going?"

"We know, we know," sang the sparrows; "we have looked in at the
windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them.
Oh! you cannot think what honor and glory they receive. They are
dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in
the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful
things;--honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of
wax tapers."

"And then," asked the fir tree, trembling in all its branches, "and
then what happens?"

"We did not see any more," said the sparrows; "but this was enough
for us."

"I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,"
thought the fir tree. "It would be better even than crossing the sea.
I long for it almost with pain. Oh, when will Christmas be here? I am
now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year.
Oh, that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room,
with all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and
more beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked
out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it
be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know what it is that I feel."

"Rejoice in our love," said the air and the sunlight. "Enjoy thine own
bright life in the fresh air."