The poor little bird did not know what to do. Its wing was not yet strong, but it began to fly away as well as it could. Before it had gone far a voice was heard. “Little bird,” it said, “where are you going?” “Indeed, I do not know,” answered the bird sadly. “I am very cold.” “Come right here, then,” said the friendly spruce tree, for it was her voice that had called. “You shall live on my warmest branch all winter if you choose.” “Will you really let me?” asked the little bird eagerly. “Indeed, I will,” answered the kind-hearted spruce tree. “If your friends have flown away, it is time for the trees to help you. Here is the branch where my leaves are thickest and softest.” “My branches are not very thick,” said the friendly pine tree, “but I am big and strong, and I can keep the North Wind from you and the spruce.” “I can help, too,” said a little juniper tree. “I can give you berries all winter long, and every bird knows that juniper berries are good.” So the spruce gave the lonely little bird a home; the pine kept the cold North Wind away from it; and the juniper gave it berries to eat. The other trees looked on and talked together wisely. “I would not have strange birds on my boughs,” said the birch. “I shall not give my acorns away for any one,” said the oak. “I never have anything to do with strangers,” said the willow, and the three trees drew their leaves closely about them. In the morning all those shining, green leaves lay on the ground, for a cold North Wind had come in the night, and every leaf that it touched fell from the tree. “May I touch every leaf in the forest?” asked the wind in its frolic. “No,” said the Frost King. “The trees that have been kind to the little bird with the broken wing may keep their leaves.” This is why the leaves of the spruce, the pine, and the juniper are always green. WHY THE ASPEN QUIVERS OLD LEGEND Long, long ago, so the legend says, when Joseph and Mary and the Holy Babe fled out of Bethlehem into Egypt, they passed through the green wildwood. And flowers and trees and plants bent their heads in reverence. But the proud aspen held its head high and refused even to look at the Holy Babe. In vain the birds sang in the aspen's branches, entreating it to gaze for one moment at the wonderful One; the proud tree still held its head erect in scorn. Then outspake Mary, his mother. “O aspen tree,” she said, “why do you not gaze on the Holy Child? Why do you not bow your head? A star arose at his birth, angels sang his first lullaby, kings and shepherds came to the brightness of his rising; why, then, O aspen, do you refuse to honor your Lord and mine?” But the aspen could not answer. A strange shivering passed through its stem and along its boughs, which set its leaves a-quivering. It trembled before the Holy Babe. And so from age to age, even unto this day, the proud aspen shakes and shivers. THE WONDER TREE BY FRIEDRICH ADOLPH KRUMMACHER (ADAPTED)