itself so very sweet. The
fir became bashful at this, and let it pass. But the birch raised itself
before the brook asked it. "Hi, hi, hi!" said the brook, and grew. "Ha,
ha, ha!" said the brook, and grew. "Ho, ho, ho!" said the brook, and
flung the heather and the juniper and the fir and the birch flat on
their faces and backs, up and down these great hills. The mountain sat
up for many hundred years musing on whether it had not smiled a
little that day.

It was plain enough: the mountain did not want to be clad. The heather
fretted over this until it grew green again, and then it started
forward. "Fresh courage!" said the heather.

The juniper had half raised itself to look at the heather, and continued
to keep this position, until at length it stood upright. It scratched
its head and set forth again, taking such a vigorous foothold that it
seemed as though the mountain must feel it. "If you will not have me,
then I will have you." The fir crooked its toes a little to find out
whether they were whole, then lifted one foot, found it whole, then the
other, which proved also to be whole, then both of them. It first
investigated the ground it had been over, next where it had been lying,
and finally where it should go. After this it began to wend its way
slowly along, and acted just as though it had never fallen. The birch
had become most wretchedly soiled, but now rose up and made itself tidy.
Then they sped onward, faster and faster, upward and on either side, in
sunshine and in rain. "What in the world can this be?" said the
mountain, all glittering with dew, as the summer sun shone down on it.
The birds sang, the wood-mouse piped, the hare hopped along, and the
ermine hid itself and screamed.

Then the day came when the heather could peep with one eye over the edge
of the mountain. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" said the heather, and away
it went. "Dear me! what is it the heather sees?" said the juniper, and
moved on until it could peer up. "Oh dear, oh dear!" it shrieked, and
was gone. "What is the matter with the juniper to-day?" said the fir,
and took long strides onward in the heat of the sun. Soon it could raise
itself on its toes and peep up. "Oh dear!" Branches and needles stood on
end in wonderment. It worked its way forward, came up, and was gone.
"What is it all the others see, and not I?" said the birch; and lifting
well its skirts, it tripped after. It stretched its whole head up at
once. "Oh,--oh!--is no