And they said they would. So Barbara fell asleep.


III

"The bells in the city are ringing merrily," said the fir, "and the music
in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than before. Can it be that
the prince has already come into the city?"

"No," cried the pine-tree, "look to the east and see the Christmas day
a-dawning! The prince is coming, and his pathway is through the forest!"

The storm had ceased. Snow lay upon all the earth. The hills, the forest,
the city, and the meadows were white with the robe the storm-king had
thrown over them. Content with his wondrous work, the storm-king himself
had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn of the Christmas day.
Everything was bright and sparkling and beautiful. And most beautiful was
the great hymn of praise the forest sang that Christmas morning,--the
pine-trees and the firs and the vines and the snow-flowers that sang of
the prince and of his promised coming.

"Wake up, little one," cried the vine, "for the prince is coming!"

But Barbara slept; she did not hear the vine's soft calling, nor the lofty
music of the forest.

A little snow-bird flew down from the fir-tree's bough and perched upon
the vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morning and of
the coming of the prince. But Barbara slept; she did not hear the carol of
the bird.