"The little Spider's scalt herself,
And the Flea weeps;
The little door creaks with the pain,
And the broom sweeps;
The little cart runs on so fast,"—
Thereupon the tree cried, "I will shake myself!" and went on shaking till all its leaves fell off.
A little girl passing by with a water-pitcher saw it shaking, and asked: "Why do you shake yourself, little tree?"
"Why may I not?" said the tree:
"The little Spider's scalt herself,