A Christmas Story
One Christmas Eve the trees in a wood were very unhappy. They wished very much to keep Christmas, but they did not know how to do so.
“We look so brown,” said one.
“And so bare,” said another.
“If we only had our pretty green summer dresses,” said a third, “then we should be decorated and could keep Christmas.”
“Hush, children, hush!” whispered North Wind in quite a gentle voice for such a rough fellow. “Make haste and go to sleep.”
“Hush! children, hush!” softly murmured a sleepy little bird. He was roosting on one of the branches of the unhappy trees.
So the trees dropped off to sleep, one by one, while a little star twinkled peacefully overhead.
But while they slept something happened. And when the trees awoke they found that someone, perhaps North Wind, had, during the night, cast over each of them a lovely soft cloak of spotless feathery white.
“How beautiful we are!” said the trees. “Now we can keep our Christmas!”
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