The time of green apples had come, and all day long a hard wind had been blowing. When supper time came Dick was ill. Perhaps the apple tree could have told the reason.
Dick was lying on the couch, and his mother was busy making a cup of tea for him.
After he had taken the hot and bitter drink he lay watching the steam that rose from the teakettle. Just as he was closing his eyes in sleep the steam began to turn from white to green. Then an apple tree grew up out of the teakettle and stretched its branches to the ceiling.
"That looks like the apple tree in the corner of our pasture," thought Dick.
And then he saw a woman sitting in the midst of the branches. She wore a dress that was green and brown, like the apple-tree leaves in the fall.
"I suppose that is the Apple-Tree Mother," said Dick to himself. "If she is as old as our tree, she must be very old indeed."
Then the Apple-Tree Mother laughed and all the leaves of the tree danced. "My little boy," she said, "I am so old that I have grown young again, and I bring with me pictures and stories of the world that has lived about my tree."
"Pictures and stories!" exclaimed Dick. "Oh, can't you show me some of them?"
"That is just why I came to visit you," she said. "Will you have pictures of animals or of flowers?"