When summer came the birds
would rest on the branches of this wee tree, but would not build nests,
because it was too low. When winter came little white snowflakes came
fluttering down and rested on the branches of the little pine tree.
Year after year the little tree waited, but it grew all this time, and
seemed to stretch higher and higher its beautiful green branches.
One day, when the little snowflakes had fluttered down and made all the
world white, and the wind was whistling a merry tune, the little pine
tree heard some strange noises. The tall pine trees nodded their heads,
for they knew who were coming. They were the woodmen. They had a sled
with them, drawn by horses. The sight was strange to the pine tree, for
it had never before seen woodmen, nor a sled, nor horses. But the old
pine trees knew what it all meant, for they had seen the woodmen many
times. They wondered which tree the woodmen would choose. Now, the
little pine tree had grown, and it was not a wee tree any longer, but
was a straight, strong, beautiful tree.
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