into the warm sunshine. Besides, the corn that had been sown in the field over the field-mouse's house had grown to a great height. It seemed quite a thick forest to the poor little girl, who was only an inch high.
"You must begin and get your outfit ready this summer," said the field-mouse to her; for their neighbor, the tiresome mole in the black, velvety fur coat had now asked for Thumbeline's hand. "You must have both woolen and linen clothes. You must have things to wear and things to lie upon when you are the mole's wife."
Thumbeline had to spin on the distaff, and the field-mouse hired four spiders to spin and weave day and night. Every evening the mole came on a visit, and he was always saying that when the summer came to an end the sun would not shine nearly so hot, while now it was baking the earth almost to a hard stone. Yes, when the summer was over, then he and Thumbeline should get married. But she was not at all contented, for she did not care in the least for the tiresome mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when it set, she stole out to the door, and when the wind blew the corn aside, so that she could see the bright sky above, she thought how light and beautiful it would be out there, and wished so much that she could see her dear swallow again. But he never came back — he must have flown far away into the beautiful green forest.
When the autumn came Thumbeline had the whole of her outfit ready.
"In four weeks the wedding will take place," said the field-mouse. But Thumbeline cried, and said she would not have the tiresome old mole.
"What nonsense!" said the field-mouse; "don't be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my white tooth. Why, you will have a fine fellow for a husband! Even the queen has not a black, velvety fur coat like his! His kitchen and his cellar are well stored. You ought to be thankful to get him!"
And so the wedding was to take place. The mole had already arrived to fetch Thumbeline. She was to live with him far under the ground, and would never be allowed to go out into the warm sunshine, for he did not like it. The poor child was so distressed at the thought of having to say farewell to the beautiful sun, which she, at any rate, had been allowed to look at from the door-steps while she was with the field-mouse.
"Good-by, you bright sun!" she said, and stretched her arms toward it as she went a few steps away from the field-mouse's house, for the corn had now been reaped and only the dry stubble was left. "Good-by, good-by!" she said, and threw her little arms around a small red flower close by her. "Give my love to the dear swallow, if you should see him."
Just then she heard the twittering of a bird over her head, and she looked up; it was the swallow, who happened to be flying past. He was
