“But,” roared the lion, “each one has chosen something beautiful to make the tree a joy to all.”
“Grunt, grunt,” said the pig. “The parrots and macaws are going to have oranges and bananas, and the robins and the cedar birds red cherries, the partridges, their berries, the squirrels, nuts and apples and pears, the dog and the cat, their cream and chocolate mice. They all have what they want to eat. Grunt, grunt,” said he; “I will have what I want to eat, too, and what I want is a pail of swill.”
Now, you see it had been voted, as I told you, that each should have what he wanted hung on the tree for him, and so the lion could not help himself. If the pig chose swill, swill he must have, and angrily he had to roar: “If the pig wants swill, a pail of swill he must have, hung on the lowest bough of the tree!”
Then the wolf’s wicked eyes gleamed, for his turn was next, and he said: “If the pig has swill because he wants swill to eat, I must have what I want to eat, and I want a tender lamb, six months old.” And at that all the lambs and the sheep bleated and baaed.
“Ha, ha!” barked the fox; “then I want a turkey!” And the turkeys gobbled in fear.
“And I,” said the tiger, “want a yearling calf.” And the cows and the calves lowed in horror.
“And I,” said the owl, the clerk, “I want a plump dove.”
“And I,” said the hawk, “will take a rabbit.”
“And I,” said the leopard, “want a deer or a gazelle.”
Then all was fear and uproar. The hares and rabbits scuttled into the grass; the gazelles and the deer bounded away; the sheep and the cattle crowded close together; the small birds rose in the air in flocks; and the Christmas tree was like to have come to grief and ended, not in Christmas joy, but in fear and hatred and terror.