Mother’s story of the lost little girl
The Tree on the Hill
■ he Stevens family were spending their Christ mas vacation at their cabin in the mountains. The children were delighted at the prospect of going out on the hillside to cut down their very own little Christmas tree. They were now dressed in warm sweaters and scarves and could hardly wait for Father’s return from the village so they could get started. Janey kept skipping about the room chanting: “ Tree on the hill, Tree on the hill”— Finally Jack grew tired of it and countered with: Mother laughed. “W e can’t go until Father comes. You better just sit down and wait. Your prancing around won’t bring him any sooner. Come sit here beside me and I will tell you a story.” “ Oh goody! That will make the time fly,” said the children and they came and sat beside her. Mother began: This is the story of The Tree on the Hill. It is a story for all children everywhere— old and young, rich and poor, little and big. It is a story for you. “W ill you be still? W ill you be still?”
B y H e l e n F razee -B ower
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