“I!” said the Pine Tree, and he thought over what he had himself told. “Yes, really those were happy times.” And then he told about Christmas Eve, when he was decked out with cakes and candles.
“Oh,” said the little Mice, “how lucky you have been, old Pine Tree!”
“I am not at all old,” said he. “I came from the wood this winter; I am in my prime, and am only rather short of my age.”
“What delightful stories you know!” said the Mice: and the next night they came with four other little Mice, who were to hear what the Tree had to tell; and the more he told, the more plainly he remembered all himself; and he thought: “That was a merry time! But it can come! it can come! Klumpy-Dumpy fell down stairs, and yet he got a princess! Maybe I can get a princess too!” And all of a sudden he thought of a nice little Birch Tree growing out in the woods: to the Pine, that would be a really charming princess.
“Who is Klumpy-Dumpy?” asked the little Mice.
So then the Pine Tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remember every single word of it; and the little Mice jumped for joy up to the very top of the Tree. Next night two more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats, even; but they said the stories were not amusing, which vexed the little Mice, because they, too, now began to think them not so very amusing either.
“Do you know only that one story?” asked the Rats.
“Only that one!” answered the Tree. “I heard it on my happiest evening; but I did not then know how happy I was.”
“It is a very stupid story! Don't you know one about bacon and tallow candles? Can't you tell any larder-stories?”
“No,” said the Tree.