And, when the dainty white blossoms spread in the morning sun, all the motley trees of the wood laughed them to scorn. The crows fell off the branches with laughter, the sparrows shrieked: one and all considered it the best notion they had ever seen. But a belated bee opened six thousand great eyes and had an apoplectic fit, because she thought she had taken leave of her senses.
The Prince of Autumn looked at the flowers with moist eyes and shook his head:
“You poor little ninnies!” he said, sadly.
But the Virginia creeper flung her warm red arms around them and said that they were sweet.
The blossoms thrived and grew; and one of them even put forth a tiny green berry. And, when the others saw that, they gave up laughing and began to think about it. The alder looked itself up and down and reflected that it still was quite green; and the birch was nearly sinking into the ground for shame at its nakedness. The old frog suddenly said, “Quack!” and was so startled at this that she plunged head foremost to the bottom of the lake. The sparrow suddenly felt lonely and looked round fondly among the daughters of the land.
But the beech shook up a heap of brown leaves and clung convulsively to those which were green:
“It may be possible,” it said to itself and, then and there, put out three new shoots.
But, the night after this happened, there was a tremendous disturbance up on the mountain-peaks, where the eternal snows had lain both in Spring’s time and Summer’s. It sounded like a storm approaching. The trees grew frightened, the crows were silent, the wind held its breath.
The Prince of Autumn bent forward and listened:
“Is that the worst you can do?” shouted a hoarse voice through the darkness.