Carolyn Wells
Longer ago than you ever heard of, and farther away than you ever dreamed, the great Tree-master went out to make the trees.
Now the making of trees was a most important matter, and the Tree-master put his whole mind to it. He made all sorts of trees to use for building houses and making things to furnish the houses. Oak, maple, elm, ash, mahogany, rosewood, and many more, as you well know.
Then he made all sorts of trees to bear food: fruits, nuts, olives, and queer things like breadfruit and cocoanuts.
And he made lovely trees just to look pretty. He made dogwood, magnolia, horse-chestnut, and holly.
Then the Tree-master gave each tree its orders about blooming blossoms and bearing fruit, and at last the Tree-master thought his work was about done, and he turned to go away.
“Oh, please, sir,” said an anxious little voice, “aren’t you going to give me anything nice to do?”
“Who is speaking?” growled the Tree-master, in a voice of thunder.
“It’s only I,” and a very trembly tone reached his ear. “I’m a little fir-tree, and I’m neither beautiful nor useful.”
“You’re good enough,” said the Tree-master, as he glanced at the poor little thing. “Behave yourself, and no one will notice you.”