then it thought of a pretty little birch-tree that grew out in
the wood, and seemed to the fir-tree a real princess, and a very
beautiful one too.

'Who is Humpty Dumpty?' asked the little mice.

And then the tree told the whole story; it could remember every
single word, and the little mice were ready to leap on to the
topmost branch out of sheer joy! Next night many more mice came,
and on Sunday even two rats; but they did not care about the
story, and that troubled the little mice, for now they thought
less of it too.

'Is that the only story you know?' asked the rats.

'The only one,' answered the tree. 'I heard that on my happiest
evening, but I did not realise then how happy I was.'

'That's a very poor story. Don't you know one about bacon or
tallow candles? a storeroom story?'

'No,' said the tree.

'Then we are much obliged to you,' said the rats, and they went
back to their friends.

At last the little mice went off also, and the tree said,
sighing: 'Really it was very pleasant when the lively little mice
sat round and listened whilst I told them stories. But now
that's over too. But now I will think of the time when I shall