de them also think less of it.

"Do you know only that one story?" asked the rats.

"Only that one," replied the fir tree. "I heard it on the happiest
evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time."

"We think it is a very miserable story," said the rats. "Don't you
know any story about bacon or tallow in the storeroom?"

"No," replied the tree.

"Many thanks to you, then," replied the rats, and they went their
ways.

The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed and
said, "It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat around me
and listened while I talked. Now that is all past too. However, I
shall consider myself happy when someone comes to take me out of this
place."

But would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to clear up
the garret; the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of
the corner and thrown roughly on the floor; then the servants dragged
it out upon the staircase where the daylight shone.

"Now life is beginning again," said the tree, rejoicing in the
sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried downstairs and taken into
the courtyard so quickly that it forgot to think of itself, and could
only look about, there was so much to be seen.

The court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming.
Fresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden
trees were in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there crying,
"Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming;" but it was not the fir tree
they meant.

"Now I shall live," cried the tree joyfully, spreading out its
branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a
corner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck
in the top of the tree, and glittered in the sunshine.

In the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had
danced round the tree at Christmas time and had been so happy. The
youngest saw the gilded star and ran and pulled it off the tree. "Look
what is sticking to the ugly old fir tree," said the child, treading
on the branches till they crackled under his boots.

And the tree saw all the fresh, bright flowers in the garden, and
then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner
of the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the
merry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to
the story of Humpty-Dumpty.

"Past! past!" said the poor tree. "Oh,