"What shall we do?" cried July. "Shall we all make you a present? or tell you a story?" said November.
"Or sing you a song?" chanted May.
"No music, thank you," answered Max. "Little Thekla here sings to me, and that is sweet enough. But if you each will make us a gift, and each tell us a story, I will restore the sand you are making such a fuss about. What do you say? Is it a bargain?"
"I won't," said January. "I'11 have nothing to do with it: I am finished, and have no favors to ask of anybody."
The others, however, all cried, "Yes!" And so the bargain was struck. Each Month was to come in turn on the last night of the month before, tell a story, bring a present, and get his missing moments. With this agreement, they said good-by. April gave Thekla a kiss, and they went away. For a time their voices could be heard growing more and more distant in the forest, then all was silent again.
