“Quick, now!” said Autumn. “There’s no time here to waste.”
The little brown mice filled their parlours from floor to ceiling with nuts and beech-mast and acorns. The hedgehog had already eaten himself so fat that he could hardly lower his quills, but still loitered around all night to get more food. The hare and the fox and the stag put on clean white woollen things under their coats. The starling and the thrush and the blackbird saw to their downy clothing and exercised their wings for the long journey. The sparrows were envious that they could not go too; as for the crows, nothing seemed to hurt them; and the lapwing sat on his tussock and looked lonely.
But the bat went right away and hung himself on his own hindlegs deep down in a hollow tree.
“Quick!” said Autumn. “It will be over in a week.”
The sun hid himself behind the clouds and did not appear for many days.
It began to rain. The wind quickened its pace: it dashed the rain over the meadow, whipped the river into foam and whistled uncannily through the trunks in the forest. The leaves fell without ceasing.
“Now the song is finished!” said the Prince of Autumn.
Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew:
Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime,
For the last time, for the last time!