It stayed there all the winter, and Thumbeline was good to it and grew very fond of it. She did not tell either the mole or the field-mouse anything about it, for they did not like the poor unfortunate swallow.
As soon as the spring came and the warmth of the sun penetrated the ground, the swallow said good-bye to Thumbeline, who opened the hole which the mole had made above. The sun streamed in deliciously upon them, and the swallow asked if she would not go with him, she could sit upon his back and they would fly far away into the green wood. But Thumbeline knew that it would grieve the old field-mouse if she left her like that.
“No, I can’t,” said Thumbeline.
“Good-bye, good-bye, then, you kind pretty girl,” said the swallow, and flew out into the sunshine. Thumbeline looked after him and her eyes filled with tears, for she was very fond of the poor swallow.
“Tweet, tweet,” sang the bird, and flew into the green wood.
Thumbeline was very sad. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine at all; the corn which was sown in the field near the field-mouse’s house grew quite long, it was a thick forest for the poor little girl who was so very, very small.
“You must work at your trousseau this summer,” said the mouse to her, for their neighbour the tiresome mole in his black velvet coat had asked her to marry him. “You shall have both woollen and linen, you shall have wherewith to clothe and cover yourself when you become the mole’s wife.” Thumbeline had to turn the distaff and the field-mouse hired four spiders to spin and weave day and night. The mole paid a visit every evening and he was always saying that when the summer came to an end, the sun would not shine nearly so warmly; now it burnt the ground as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer was over he would celebrate his marriage; but Thumbeline was not at all pleased, for she did not care a bit for the tiresome mole. Every morning at sunrise and every evening at sunset she used to steal out to the door, and when the wind blew aside the tops of the cornstalks so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how bright and lovely it was out there, and wished so much to see the dear swallow again; but it never came back; no doubt it was a long way off, flying about in the beautiful green woods.
When the autumn came all Thumbeline’s outfit was ready.
“In four weeks you must be married,” said the field-mouse to her. But Thumbeline cried and said that she would not have the tiresome mole for a husband.