“What are they doing?” thought the tree. “What will happen now?”
The candles burned down to the branches, and were blown out, and the children amused themselves with their beautiful playthings. No one thought any more of the tree except the old nurse, who came and peeped among the boughs, but it was only to see whether perchance an apple or a candy bag had been left among them.
Later in the evening the children tired of their play and begged their father to tell a story. “Very well,” said he. “Would you like to hear about Chicken Licken, or about Thumpty Klump, who fell down stairs, but afterward won a princess and came to a throne?”
“Chicken Licken!” cried some.
“Thumpty Klump!” cried others, and there was a great uproar.
When they grew quieter the man told the story of Thumpty Klump, and, as soon as he had finished, the children clapped their hands and called for another story, but they did not get it.
The fir-tree stood meanwhile quite silent and thoughtful. “The birds in the forest never related anything like this,” said he. “Thumpty Klump fell down stairs, and yet won a princess and was raised to a throne. Yes, yes, strange things come to pass in the world. Who knows but I may fall down stairs and win a princess?”
He rejoiced in the expectation of being next day again decked out with candles and glittering ornaments and playthings. In the morning the maids came in. “Now begins my magnificence anew,” said the tree to himself.
But they dragged him out of the room, up the stairs, and into an attic, where they thrust him into a dark corner and left him. “What can be the meaning of this?” thought the tree. “What am I to do here?” And he leaned against the wall and thought and thought.
He had plenty of time to think as much as he pleased, for day after day and night after night passed, and yet no one entered the attic. “It is winter,” said the tree. “The ground is hard and covered with snow. They cannot plant me now. So I am to stay in shelter till spring. How kind they are! I only wish it was not so dark and so dreadfully lonesome.”