cover the dead bird. She put some soft cotton she had found in the field mouse’s living room around the bird so that it could be warm in the cold ground.
“Good bye, lovely little bird,” she said. “Good bye and thank you for your beautiful song this summer when all the trees were green, and the sun shone so warmly on us.” Then she lay her head on the bird’s breast, but was immediately alarmed because there seemed to be something beating in there—it was the bird’s heart. The swallow was not dead, but had been out-cold, and now the heat had warmed it up and brought it back to life.
In the fall all the swallows fly away to warmer countries, but if there’s one who is delayed, it freezes and falls as if dead and remains lying where it falls, covered by the cold snow.
Thumbelina trembled. She was very frightened because the bird was big, so much bigger than she, who was only an inch tall. But she summoned her courage, pushed the cotton closer around the poor swallow, fetched a curled mint leaf that she had used as a comforter, and laid it over the bird’s head.
The next night she sneaked down there again and saw that it was clearly alive, but still very weak. It only had the strength to open its eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina, who held a piece of dried, rotted wood in her hand because she didn’t have any other light.
“Thank you so much, you lovely little child,” the sick swallow said to her. “I’ve warmed up very nicely. Soon I’ll regain my strength and be able to fly again—out into the warm sunshine.”
“Oh,” she said, “it’s so cold out. It’s snowing and freezing. Stay in your warm bed, and I’ll take care of you.”
Then she brought the swallow water in a flower petal, and it drank and told her how it had torn its wing on a wild rose bush and couldn’t fly as well as the other swallows. They flew away, far away to warmer countries while it finally fell to the ground. It couldn’t remember anything else, or how it had gotten there.
So it stayed there the whole winter, and Thumbelina treated it with affection and kindness, but neither the mole nor the field mouse knew anything about it because they didn’t like the poor little swallow.
As soon as spring came, and the sun warmed the ground, the swallow said good bye to Thumbelina, who opened the hole that the mole had made. The sun shone in on them so delightfully, and the swallow asked if she would like to come along with him. She could sit on his back, and they would fly far, far away into the green forest. But Thumbelina knew that the old field mouse would be saddened if she were to leave her.
“No! I can’t!” said Thumbelina.
“Good bye, good bye! You lovely, good girl,” said the swallow and flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina looked after it, and tears came to her eyes because she was so fond of the poor swallow.
“Tweet, tweet” sang the bird and flew into the green forest.
Thumbelina was very sad. She wasn’t allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn sown in the field over the field mouse’s house grew so high up in the air that it was like a huge forest for the poor little girl, who was only an inch tall, of course.
“This summer you will sew your trousseau,” the field mouse told her because the neighbor, the boring mole in the black velvet coat, had proposed. “You’re going to have all the comforts—both wool and linen to sit and lie upon—when you become the mole’s wife.”
Thumbelina had to spin on the spindle, and the field mouse hired four spiders to spin and weave day and night. The mole visited every evening and always talked about the end of summer when the sun would not shine so warmly—it was actually burning the ground hard as a rock. When summer was over, the wedding with Thumbelina would take place, but she was not looking forward to that because she didn’t like the boring mole. Every morning when the sun came up and every evening when it set, she slipped out the door, and when the wind separated the tops of the corn tassels so that she could see the blue sky, she thought about how light and beautiful it was outside, and she wished so very much that she could see the dear swallow again, but it never came back. It must have been flying far away in the beautiful green forest.
When fall came, Thumbelina had her trousseau ready.
“The wedding will take place in four weeks,” the field mouse told her, but Thumbelina cried and said that she didn’t want the dull old mole.
“Nonsense!” the field mouse said. “Don’t be obstinate, or I’ll bite you with my white tooth! After all, this is a fine husband you’re getting! Even the queen doesn’t have a velvet coat like his. He’s well off and has both kitchen and cellar, and you can thank God that you’re getting him!”
The wedding day came, and the mole had already come to get Thumbelina. She was to live with him, deep down under the ground, never to come out into the warm sunshine because he couldn’t tolerate that. The poor child was very sad because she had to say good bye to the lovely sun, which she had at least been able to see in the field mouse’s doorway.
“Good bye, bright sun!” she said and raised her arms high up in the air. She also took a few steps out of the field mouse’s house because the corn had been harvested, and only the dry stubble remained. “Farewell, farewell,” she said and threw her thin arms around a little red flower standing there. “Greet the little swallow from me if you see it.”
“Tweet, tweet,” she heard right above her head. She looked up, and there was the little swallow just flying by, and as soon as it saw Thumbelina, it was very happy. She told the swallow that she didn’t want to marry the ugly mole, and that she would have to live deep under the ground where the sun didn’t shine. She couldn’t help but cry at the thought.
“Now the cold winter’s coming,” the swallow said. “I’m going to fly away to the warm countries. Would you like to come with me? You can sit on my back. Tie yourself on with your belt, and we’ll fly away from the ugly mole and his dark home. We’ll fly far away over the mountains to the warm countries, where the sun shines brighter than here, and where there’s always summer and lovely flowers. Just come with me, sweet little Thumbelina, who saved my life when I was lying frozen in the dark earth.”
“Yes, I’ll come with you,” Thumbelina said and climbed up on the bird’s back with her feet on its outspread wings. She tied her belt to one of the strongest feathers, and then the swallow flew high up in the air over the forest and over the water and high up over the big mountains where there’s always snow. Thumbelina was shivering from the cold air, but then she crept in under the bird’s warm feathers, and only stuck her little head out so she could see all the delights below.
They came to the warm countries. The sun shone a lot brighter there than here; the sky was twice as high, and the most marvelous green and blue grapes grew in the ditches and fields. Lemons and oranges hung in the woods.
