'Oh, we haven't seen anything more than that. That was simply
matchless!'

'Am I too destined to the same brilliant career?' wondered the
fir-tree excitedly. 'That is even better than sailing over the
sea! I am sick with longing. If it were only Christmas! Now I
am tall and grown-up like those which were taken away last year.
Ah, if I were only in the cart! If I were only in the warm room
with all the splendour and magnificence! And then? Then comes
something better, something still more beautiful, else why should
they dress us up? There must be something greater, something
grander to come--but what? Oh! I am pining away! I really don't
know what's the matter with me!'

'Rejoice in us,' said the air and sunshine, 'rejoice in your
fresh youth in the free air!'

But it took no notice, and just grew and grew; there it stood
fresh and green in winter and summer, and all who saw it said,
'What a beautiful tree!' And at Christmas-time it was the first
to be cut down. The axe went deep into the pith; the tree fell
to the ground with a groan; it felt bruised and faint. It could
not think of happiness, it was sad at leaving its home, the spot
where it had sprung up; it knew, too, that it would never see
again its dear old companions, or the little shrubs and flowers,
perhaps not even the birds. Altogether the parting was not
pleasant.

When the tree came to itself again it was packed in a yard with
other trees, and a man was saying, 'This is a splendid one, we