n the bright sunshine.

In the courtyard a few of the merry children were playing who had danced
at Christmas round the Tree, and were so glad at the sight of him. One
of the littlest ran and tore off the golden star.

"See what is still on the ugly old Christmas Tree!" said he, and he
trampled on the branches, so that they cracked under his feet.

And the Tree saw all the beauty of the flowers, and the freshness in the
garden; he saw himself, and he wished he had stayed in his dark corner
in the attic: he thought of his fresh youth in the wood, of the merry
Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice who had heard so gladly the story
of Klumpy-Dumpy.

"Gone! gone!" said the poor Tree. "Had I but been happy when I could be.
Gone! gone!"

And the gardener's boy came and chopped the Tree into small pieces;
there was a whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up finely under
the large brewing kettle, and it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a
little shot. So the children ran to where it lay and sat down before the
fire, and peeped in at the blaze, and shouted "Piff! paff!" But at every
snap there was a deep sigh. The Tree was thinking of summer days in
the wood, and of winter nights when the stars shone; it was thinking
of Christmas Eve and Klumpy-Dumpy, the only fairy tale it had heard and
knew how to tell,--and so the Tree burned out.

The boys played about in the court, and the youngest wore the gold star
on his breast which the Tree had worn on the happiest evening of his
life. Now, that was gone, the Tree was gone, and gone too was the story.
All, all was gone, and that's the way with all stories.

THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO

BY FRANCES BROWNE (ADAPTED)

Once upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the North
Country, a certain village. All its inhabitants were poor, for their
fields were barren, and they had little trade; but the poorest of them
all were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's
craft. Their hut was built of clay and wattles. The door was low and
always open, for there was no window. The roof did not entirely keep out
the rain and the only thing comfortable was a wide fireplace, for which
the brothers could never find wood enough to make sufficient fire.
There they worked in most brotherly friendship, though with little
encouragement.

On one unlucky day a new cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in
the capital city of the kingdom and, by his own