"Oh, yes," said the vine. "I heard the country folks talking about it
as they went through the forest to-day, and they said that the prince
would surely come on the morrow."
"What are you little folks down there talking about?" asked the
pine-tree.
"We are talking about the prince," said the vine.
"Yes, he is to come on the morrow," said the pine-tree, "but not until
the day dawns, and it is still all dark in the east."
"Yes," said the fir-tree, "the east is black, and only the wind and
the snow issue from it."
"Keep your head out of my way!" cried the pine-tree to the fir; "with
your constant bobbing around I can hardly see at all."
"Take _that_ for your bad manners," retorted the fir, slapping the
pine-tree savagely with one of her longest branches.
The pine-tree would put up with no such treatment, so he hurled his
largest cone at the fir; and for a moment or two it looked as if there
were going to be a serious commotion in the forest.
"Hush!" cried the vine in a startled tone; "there is some one coming
through the forest."
The pine-tree and the fir stopped quarrelling, and the snowdrop
nestled closer to the vine, while the vine hugged the pine-tree very
tightly. All were greatly alarmed.
"Nonsense!" said the pine-tree, in a tone of assumed bravery. "No one
would venture into the forest at such an hour."
"Indeed! and why not?" cried a child's voice. "Will you not let me
watch with you for the coming of the prince?"
"Will you not chop me down?" inquired the pine-tree gruffly.
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