begin again,' thought the tree. But they dragged it out of the
room, and up the stairs to the lumber-room, and put it in a dark
corner, where no ray of light could penetrate. 'What does this
mean?' thought the tree. 'What am I to do here? What is there
for me to hear?' And it leant against the wall, and thought and
thought. And there was time enough for that, for days and nights
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