But at first no one heard him, because all were talking at once in their own way—barking and growling and roaring and chattering; but by and by the lion saw that the pig was squealing something, so he roared for silence, and then they all heard the pig squeal out that he did not want any swill. And the lion roared aloud: “You have heard. Has the owl recorded that the pig will have no swill?”
“Yes,” said the owl.
“Then,” said the lion, “record that the lion wants no pig.”
Then the tiger growled: “And I want no calf,” and one by one the leopard and the eagle, the wolf and the fox, the hawk and the owl, and all their kind, took back their votes.
And so it came about that the animals did have a Christmas tree after all; but instead of hanging lambs and doves upon the tree, they agreed that they could hang little images of lambs and doves, and other birds and animals, too, perhaps. And by and by the custom spread until the humans came to hang the same little images on their trees, too, and when you see a little figure of a lamb or a dove on the Christmas tree, you may know that it is all because the lamb and the dove, by their unselfishness, saved the animals from strife; for neither thought what he wanted from the tree, but each was ready to give himself for the others, so that they might not fight and kill one another at the Christmas time.
Was it not cruel of the wolves and tigers and leopards and foxes to wish to eat the doves and sheep and rabbits and hares? But after all, the worst one of the lot, I think, was the pig; for the pig began the trouble, because he only thought of what Mr. Pig wanted for himself.
And do you know, I think that after all that is the trouble everywhere. We can get along all right if the pig will only keep away, for when the pig comes and begins to think what he can get for himself, without thinking of the pleasure and the comfort of anyone else, why, then the fun is all spoiled, and pretty soon all sorts of bad tempers and bad passions are let loose.