They all knew each other, for they belonged to a great family, and were proud of it.
"We are all oak trees," they said. "We own the land, and rule over it."
And they were right. There were only a few human beings there in those days, and those that there were were nothing better than wild animals. The bear, the wolf, and the fox went out hunting, while the stag grazed by the edge of the fen. The field-mouse sat outside his hole and ate acorns, and the beaver built his artistic houses by the river banks.
One day the bear came trudging along and lay down at full breadth under a great oak tree.
"Are you there again, you robber?" said the oak, and shook a lot of withered leaves down over him.
"You should not squander your leaves, my old friend," said the bear, licking his paws. "That is all the shade you can give against the sun."
"If you are not pleased with me, you can go," answered the oak proudly. "I am lord in the land, and whatever way you look you find my brothers and nothing else."