lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it
must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a
little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since
he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be
the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped
dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a
delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. "I
believe the Spring has come at last," said the Giant; and he jumped
out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall
the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of
the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little
child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again
that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving
their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were
flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were
looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely
scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest
corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was
so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree,
and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree
was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was
blowing and roaring above it. "Climb up! little boy," said the
Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy
was too tiny.

And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. "How selfish I have