. "Stay here and be warm, and I will take care of you,"
and she brought the swallow water in a leaf.

And the little bird told her all his story,--how he had tried to fly
to the warm countries, and how he had torn his wing on a blackthorn
bush and fallen to the ground. But he could not tell her how he had
come to the underground passage.

All winter the swallow stayed there, and Thumbelina was often in the
long passage, with her little torch of tinder-wood. But the mole and
the field-mouse did not know how Thumbelina tended and cared for the
swallow.

At last spring came, and the sun sent its warmth down where the
swallow lay in the underground passage.

Little Thumbelina opened the hole which the mole had made in the
ceiling, and the sunshine streamed down on the swallow and the little
girl.

How the swallow longed to soar away, up and up, to be lost to sight in
the blue, blue sky!

"Come with me, little Thumbelina," said the swallow, "come with me to
the blue skies and the green woods."

But Thumbelina remembered how kind the field-mouse had been to her
when she was cold and hungry, and she would not leave her.

"Farewell! farewell! then, little maiden," twittered the swallow as he
flew out and up, up into the sunshine.

Thumbelina loved the swallow dearly. Her eyes were full of tears as
she watched the bird disappearing till he was only a tiny speck of
black.

And now sad days came to little Thumbelina.

The golden corn was once more waving in the sunshine above the house
of the field-mouse, but Thumbelina must not go out lest she lose
herself among the corn.

Not go out in the bright sunshine! Oh, poor little Thumbelina!

"You must get your wedding clothes ready this summer," said the
field-mouse. "You must be well provided with linen and worsted. My
neighbor the mole will wish a well-dressed bride."

The mole had said he wished to marry little Thumbelina before the cold
winter came again.

So Thumbelina sat at the spinning-wheel through the long summer days,
spinning and weaving with four little spiders to help her.

In the evening the mole came to visit her. "Summer will soon be over,"
he said, "and we shall be married."

But oh! little Thumbelina did not wish the summer to end.

Live with the dull old mole, who hated the sunshine, who would not
listen to the song of the birds--live underground with him! Little
Thumbelina wished the summer would never end.

The spinning and weaving were o