“That is all very sad,” whispered the tree. “I shall drop no more acorns until Rose is happy.”
Soon the squirrel came to gather some nuts. But he could find very few.
“Dear Tree,” he chattered, “please drop down some acorns.”
“No,” answered the tree. “I cannot, now.”
“Why not?” asked the squirrel.
“Ah, me!” rustled the tree. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, and I will drop no more acorns until Rose is happy again.”
“And I will work no more,” chirped the squirrel. “I will run away to my nest in the old hollow tree.”