"True," muttered the bear. "That is just what is so sickening. I have been for a little tour abroad, I may tell you, and am just a little bit spoilt. It was in a land down towards the south--there I took a nap under the beech trees. They are tall, slim trees, not crooked old things like you. And their tops are so dense that the sunbeams cannot creep through them. It was a real pleasure there to take a midday nap, I assure you." "Beech trees?" said the oak inquisitively. "What are they?" "You might well wish you were half as pretty as a beech tree," said the bear. "But I don't want to chatter any more with you just now. I have had to trot a mile on account of a confounded hunter who struck me on one of my hind legs with an arrow. Now I should like to have a sleep, and perhaps you will be kind enough to leave me at peace, since you cannot give me shade." The bear stretched himself out and closed his eyes; but he got no sleep _that_ time, for the other trees had heard his story, and they began chattering and talking and rustling their leaves in a way never known in the wood before. "What on earth can those trees be?" said one of them. "It is, of course, a mere story; the bear wishes to impose upon us," said the other. "What kind of trees can they be whose leaves sit so close together that the sunbeams cannot creep between them?" asked a little oak, who was listening to what the big ones were talking about. But by his side stood an old gnarled tree, who gave the little oak a clout on the head with one of his lowest boughs. "Hold your tongue," he said, "and don't talk till you have something to talk about. You need none of you believe a word of the bear's nonsense. I am much taller than you, and I can see far out over the wood. But so far as ever I can see, there is nothing but oak trees." The little oak was shamefaced, and held his tongue; and the other big trees spoke to one another in low whispers, for they had great respect for the old one. But the bear got up and rubbed his eyes. "Now you have disturbed my midday nap," he growled angrily, "and I declare that I will have my revenge. When I come back I will bring some beech nuts with me, and I vow you will all turn yellow with jealousy when you see how pretty the new trees are." Then he made off. But the oaks talked the whole day long one to another about the funny trees he had told them about. "If they come, I will kill them," said the little oak tree, but directly afterwards he got one on the head from the old oak. "If they come, you shall treat them politely, you young dog," said he. "But they will not come." * * * * * But in this the old oak was wrong, for they did come. Towards autumn the bear came back and lay down under the old oak. "My friends down there wish me to present their compliments," he said, and he picked some funny things out of his shaggy coat. "Here you may see what I have for you." "What is it?" asked the oak.