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"Well?" said the mistletoe. "My dear little foster-child," said the crab-apple-tree, "if there's anything you require, do, for goodness' sake, say so!" When the keeper's old dog came out and wanted to rub himself, he remained standing in amazement and looked at the fence with his one, half-blind eye.
It'll take to its legs, right enough, when it begins to rain and blow." The blackbird flew away and the crab-apple-tree stood sunk in her own old thoughts, with the stone on her branch. In the evening, it came on to rain violently and the stone slipped slowly down the wet branch, until it reached the underside. "Now it will drop," thought the apple-tree. But the stone did not drop.
Then he ran in and fetched the old keeper: "Keeper, do you see that tree?" he said. "That's the most remarkable tree in the whole wood." "That one there?" said the keeper. "Why, it's only an old crab-apple-tree, professor. You should see a couple of apple-trees I have in my garden." "I don't care a fig for them," said the professor. "I would give all the apple-trees in the world for this one tree.
"Last night, it slipped down quite gently to the underside of the branch; and, for that matter, it does me no harm." "Then it's not a flea," said the dog. Autumn came and all the good apples in the garden were gathered and stored in the loft. There was no one who cared about the crab-apple-tree. Her apples remained on the branches till they fell to the ground, where they lay and rotted.
But the tree was well-pleased with the state of things. She knew that little crab-apple-trees would sprout from them and that was why she had put them forth. Then winter came, with frost and snow. The old dog lay all day under the stove in the parlour. The crab-apple-tree stood outside in the snow, with the queer stone under her branch.
At night, a terrible storm broke loose and all the trees creaked and swayed to and fro. Inside the keeper's garden, the orange-pippins and the russets fell to the ground by the bushel. But the stone stuck where it was. "Well, that's odd!" thought the crab-apple-tree.
It was somewhere ever so far away; and now I've been flying for a day and a half with this silly stone. Every moment, I've been trying to get it off.... Ah, there it goes, thank goodness! Now it's on you, you old Crab-Apple-Tree. You'll see, you will never get rid of it." "Just let it be," said the apple-tree, gaily, "and don't bother about me.
"Indeed, I shall do no such thing," replied the mistletoe. "When your leaves are withered and fallen and you stand strutting with your bare branches in the snow, mine will be just as fresh and green as now. I am evergreen you must know: green in winter and green in spring." The crab-apple-tree was so exasperated that she was quite unable to reply.
She was old and ugly and small. She could only just peep over the hazel-hedge into the garden, at the orange-pippin-tree and the russet-apple-tree, who stood and gleamed in the autumn sun with their great red-and-yellow fruit and looked far more important than the crab-apple-tree. Every morning, the keeper's dog came jogging round the fence to take a mouthful of fresh air and a little exercise.
"You can go back to the garden and rub yourself against the real apple-trees!" said the crab-apple-tree, haughtily. "I stand here with a mistletoe and must be treated with the utmost care. If I die, the mistletoe dies: do you understand? I have been written about in the papers. I am the most important tree in the wood!" "Yes ... you're all that!" said the dog and jogged home again.