They peeped through a window or hole in the old tree and saw their mother approaching.
"Mother, mother, here lives a real tree man; we saw him—didn't you?"
Mother smiled—what the children called her mysterious smile.
"You look like two little wood-men yourselves," she said. "Lottchen, stand up straight in the hole and look at me."
Lottchen stood up just fitting into the green mark on the tree behind her. She made a pretty picture, her laughing brown eyes with the long eyelashes, her rosy cheeks, and the wind-blown hair straying from under her hood.
"O look, Lottchen, here is a little basin of holy water, just like we saw in the cathedral," said Trudel.
| "Wood water, |
| Nice and brown, |
| In a little cup. |
| Wood water, |
| Wood wine, |
| Won't you drink it up?" |
said a tiny voice that sounded like that of a wood-bird.
"Mother! did you hear anything, mother?"
"Yes, darlings, the birds are singing so sweetly now the rain is over. I have brought my camp-stool. I shall sit here and sketch the tree," said mother.