Then Alma said, “Oh, beautiful little girl, what is your name?”
To which the little girl answered: “Niebla.”
“Will you talk to me, and play with me?” said Alma.
“Oh, no,” said Niebla; “how can I play with a little girl dressed as you are, and with bare feet?”
For, you know, poor Alma only wore a little old frock that came down to her knees, and she had no shoes and stockings on.
Then little Niebla rose up and floated away, away from the bank and down the river. And at last, when she was quite out of sight in the white mist, Alma began to cry. When it got very hot, she went and sat down, still crying, under the trees. There were two very big willow trees growing near the river. By and by the leaves rustled in the wind, and the trees began talking to each other, and Alma understood everything they said.
“Have you got any nests in your branches?” said one tree.
“Yes, one,” said the other tree. “It was made by a little yellow bird, and there are five speckled eggs in it.”
Then the first tree said: “There is little Alma sitting in our shade. Do you know why she is crying, Neighbour?”
The other tree answered: “Yes, it is because she has no one to play with. Little Niebla by the river refused to play with her because she is not beautifully dressed.”