‘What are they doing?’ thought the tree. ‘What is going to happen?’ And the tapers burnt low on the branches, and were put out one by one, and then the children were given permission to plunder the tree. They rushed at it so that all its boughs creaked; if it had not been fastened by the gold star at the top to the ceiling, it would have been overthrown.
The children danced about with their splendid toys, and no one looked at the tree, except the old nurse, who came and peeped amongst the boughs, just to see if a fig or an apple had been forgotten.
‘A story! a story!’ cried the children, and dragged a little stout man to the tree; he sat down beneath it, saying, ‘Here we are in the greenwood, and the tree will be delighted to listen! But I am only going to tell one story. Shall it be Henny Penny or Humpty Dumpty who fell downstairs, and yet gained great honour and married a princess?’
‘Henny Penny!’ cried some; ‘Humpty Dumpty!’ cried others; there was a perfect babel of voices! Only the fir-tree kept silent, and thought, ‘Am I not to be in it? Am I to have nothing to do with it?’
But it had already been in it, and played out its part. And the man told them about Humpty Dumpty who fell downstairs and married a princess. The children clapped their hands and cried, ‘Another! another!’ They wanted the story of Henny Penny also, but they only got Humpty Dumpty. The fir-tree stood quite astonished and thoughtful; the birds in the wood had never related anything like that. ‘Humpty Dumpty fell downstairs and yet married a princess! yes, that is the way of the world!’ thought the tree, and was sure it must be true, because such a nice man had told the story. ‘Well, who knows? Perhaps I shall fall downstairs and marry a princess.’ And it rejoiced to think that next day it would be decked out again with candles, toys, glittering ornaments, and fruits. ‘To-morrow I shall quiver again with excitement. I shall enjoy to the full all my splendour. To-morrow I shall hear Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Henny Penny too.’ And the tree stood silent and lost in thought all through the night.
Next morning the servants came in. ‘Now the dressing up will begin again,’ thought the tree. But they dragged it out of the room, and up the stairs to the lumber-room, and put it in a dark corner, where no ray of light could penetrate. ‘What does this mean?’ thought the tree. ‘What am I to do here? What is there for me to hear?’ And it leant against the wall, and thought and thought. And there was time enough for that, for days and nights went by, and no one came; at last when some one did come, it was only to put some great boxes into the corner. Now the tree was quite covered; it seemed as if it had been quite forgotten.
‘Now it is winter out-doors,’ thought the fir-tree. ‘The ground is hard and covered with snow, they can’t plant me yet, and that is why I am staying here under cover till the spring comes. How thoughtful they are! Only I wish it were not so terribly dark and lonely here; not even a little hare! It was so nice out in the wood, when the snow lay all around, and the hare leapt past me; yes, even when he leapt over me: but I didn’t like it then. It’s so dreadfully lonely up here.’
‘Squeak, squeak!’ said a little mouse, stealing out, followed by a second. They sniffed at the fir-tree, and then crept between its boughs. ‘It’s frightfully cold,’ said the little mice. ‘How nice it is to be here! Don’t you think so too, you old fir-tree?’
‘I’m not at all old,’ said the tree; ‘there are many much older than I am.’
‘Where do you come from?’ asked the mice, ‘and what do you know?’ They were extremely inquisitive. ‘Do tell us about the most beautiful place in the world. Is that where you come from? Have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from the ceiling, where one dances on tallow candles, and where one goes in thin and comes out fat?’