Out of the room ran the boy, and all the toys breathed easier when
they saw him go.

"My poor, dear friend!" exclaimed the Rocking Horse, as he slowly
made his way over to where the Tin Soldier lay on the carpet. "I
hope you will forgive me!"

"It was not your fault at all!" said the Soldier. "It could not be
helped. It is the fortune of war, as we men of the army say. My
sword is broken, that is true, but it is much better to bear that
than to put up with a broken arm or leg. Perhaps I can be mended."

He picked up the sword which had been broken off from his tin side
where it had been soldered, or fastened. He tried to make it stick
on, but it was of no use.

"Never mind, Captain," said the Corporal from the floor where he lay
in a heap with the other soldiers, "we think just as much of you as
before. You are still our commander, sword or no sword!"

"I am glad to have you say that," returned the Bold Tin Soldier.
"Dear me, what a day it has been!"

He was still holding the broken sword in his hand when the door
opened again and some one came rushing in. The Soldier had to drop
back on the carpet, letting his broken sword fall where it would,
and neither the Horse nor the other toys could speak again for a
time.

And then a voice said: