my branches, gathering nuts and seeking holes to store their acorns in.  I have no room for a stranger.”

The Bird.  “Ah!  I did not think the Oak could be so cruel.  Perhaps Maple will help me, she always seemed kind like a Mother.  Dear, beautiful Maple, I am tired.  May I rest among your lovely red leaves until my broken wing is mended and my friends come back to me?”

Maple.  “Oh, no, I could not think of it!  I have just dressed my leaves all in red and you might spoil their lovely clothes.  Do go away.  There are other trees in the forest not so gay as I.”

The Bird.  “What should I do?  No one wants to help me.  Can I not find one kind tree?  Dear kind Willow, your branches bend almost to the ground.  Could I live in them until the spring-time?”

     Willow.  “Really, little Bird with the broken wing, you are
     a stranger.  You should have gone with the other birds.  Maybe
     some other tree can help you but we willows are particular.”

     The Bird.  “I do not know where to go and I’m so cold!  I
     wonder if the other birds have reached the beautiful warm
     South.”

     Spruce.  “Little Bird, little Bird, where are you going?”

     The Bird.  “I do not know.  I am very cold.”

     Spruce.  “Come, make a big hop and rest in this snug corner
     of my branches.  You can stay with me all winter if you
     like.”

     The Bird.  “You are so good, dear Spruce-tree.  Will you
     really let me?”

Spruce.  “If your friends the birds have left you, your other friends, the trees, will surely help you.  Ho, Pine-tree, you would help a little Bird with a broken wing, wouldn’t you?”

     Pine.  “Oh, yes, dear Bird!  My branches are not wide but I
     am tall and thick, and I will keep the cold North Wind from
     you.”

     Juniper.  “And maybe I can help.  Are you hungry, little
     Bird?  You can eat my nice little berries whenever you like.”

     The Bird.  “Thank you, kind friends!  I will go to sleep now
     on this nice branch of the Spruce-tree, Good-night, dear
     Trees.”

     Spruce, Pine, and Juniper.  “Good-night, little Bird.”

     North Wind.  “Oo,—­Oo!—­Now I must run in and out among
     all the trees of the forest.—­But who comes here?”

Frost King.  “Stop, North Wind!  I have just gone before you, as King Winter said, and touched the trees of the forest.  But the trees that have been kind to the Bird with the broken wing, those I did not touch.  They shall keep their leaves.  Do not you harm them!”

North Wind.  “Very well, King Frost.  Good-bye! Oo!—­Oo!—­”