Oh, how they rushed upon it!  There was such a riot that the branches cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the ceiling, it must have been thrown down.

Then the children danced about with their pretty toys, and no one noticed the tree, except the children’s maid, who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.

“A story, a story,” cried the children, pulling a little fat man toward the tree.

“Now we shall be in green shade,” said the man, as he seated himself under it, “and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also; but I shall only relate one story.  What shall it be?  Ivede-Avede, or Humpty-Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess?”

“Ivede-Avede,” cried some.  “Humpty-Dumpty,” cried others; and there was a famous uproar.  But the fir tree remained quite still, and thought to himself, “Shall I have anything to do with all this?  Ought I to make a noise too?” but he had already amused them as much as they wished.

Then the old man told them the story of Humpty-Dumpty;—­how he fell downstairs and was raised up again, and married a princess.  And the children clapped their hands and cried “Tell another, tell another,” for they wanted to hear the story of Ivede-Avede; but this time they had only Humpty-Dumpty.  After this the fir tree became quite silent and thoughtful.  Never had the birds in the forest told such tales as Humpty-Dumpty who fell down stairs, and yet married a princess.

“Ah, yes! so it happens in the world,” thought the fir tree.  He believed it all, because it was related by such a pleasant man.

“Ah, well!” he thought, “who knows?  Perhaps I may fall down too and marry a princess;” and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and fruit.  “Tomorrow I will not tremble,” thought he; “I will enjoy all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty-Dumpty again, and perhaps Ivede-Avede.”  And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night.

In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in.  “Now,” thought the fir tree, “all my splendor is going to begin again.”  But they dragged him out of the room and upstairs to the garret and threw him on the floor, in a dark corner where no daylight shone, and there they left him.  “What does this mean?” thought the tree.  “What am I to do here?  I can hear nothing in a place like this;” and he leaned against the wall and thought and thought.

And he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed, and no one came near him; and when at last somebody did come, it was only to push away some large boxes in a corner.  So the tree was completely hidden from sight as if it had never existed.

“It is winter now,” thought the tree; “the ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me.  I shall be sheltered here, I dare say, until spring comes.  How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me!  Still, I wish this place were not so dark and so dreadfully lonely, with not even a little hare to look at.  How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then.  Oh! it is terribly lonely here.”