The rabbit had been standing all this time with one cold foot wrapped up in his ear. He unfolded his ear now, and wiped his eyes with it.
"She almost cried," he said. "Just think of one of my little bunnies wanting anything she couldn't get, and crying about it! It just breaks my heart."
"Tree!" chirped the chicken.
"Yes," said Mrs. Squirrel, "why don't you go and get a tree for Scrubby? What do you all stand here for, chattering and doing nothing? I'd give her mine, only that great beech couldn't be got into the house."
"We wanted your advice," the sparrow suggested.
"Advice! You don't need any advice. Why don't you give her your own tree? That little Norway spruce is just the thing. Come along, and don't be so selfish!"
"I'm not selfish; but really Norway is not fit, and, besides, I don't believe he'll go."
"Nonsense! He's a beautiful tree, only there isn't much green on him; and of course he'll go, for we'll make him go," answered the very decided Mrs. Squirrel.
So they all whisked away to the sparrow's roosting-place. Norway was not in good health, that was evident. He was very thin, and his temper was in bad condition too; for when the sparrow asked him if he would please step out and come with them, he answered:
"Not much I wont! It's bad enough standing here in the ground, poorly as I am, without coming out there in the snow; and I'll not do it for anybody."