be brought out again, to keep up my spirits.'

But when did that happen? Well, it was one morning when they
came to tidy up the lumber-room; they threw it really rather
roughly on the floor, but a servant dragged it off at once
downstairs, where there was daylight once more.

'Now life begins again!' thought the tree. It felt the fresh
air, the first rays of the sun, and there it was out in the yard!
Everything passed so quickly; the tree quite forgot to notice
itself, there was so much to look at all around. The yard opened
on a garden full of flowers; the roses were so fresh and sweet,
hanging over a little trellis, the lime-trees were in blossom,
and the swallows flew about, saying: 'Quirre-virre-vil, my
husband has come home;' but it was not the fir-tree they meant.

'Now I shall live,' thought the tree joyfully, stretching out its
branches wide; but, alas! they were all withered and yellow; and
it was lying in a corner among weeds and nettles. The golden
star was still on its highest bough, and it glittered in the
bright sunlight. In the yard some of the merry children were
playing, who had danced so gaily round the tree at Christmas.
One of the little ones ran up, and tore off the gold star.

'Look what was left on the ugly old fir-tree!' he cried, and
stamped on the boughs so that they cracked under his feet.

And the tree looked at all the splendour and freshness of the
flowers in the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished that
it had been left lying in the dark corner of the lumber-room; it