Once upon a time in a sunny meadow, there lived a little tree named Bella. Spring had come, and the birds were singing and the flowers blooming. But Bella the tree felt strangely sad.
Bella always admired how the flowers danced so freely in the warm, gentle breeze. They swayed from side to side, swirling their bright colors joyfully. “How I wish I could dance like that!” thought Bella. “But alas, I cannot; I am too rooted to the ground.”
Hearing this, a lovely buttercup, which was taller than the flowers around it and was therefore a favorite eating place for many insects, bent low and whispered, “What a silly idea! Look at your pretty green dress and soft brown hair. Just sway this way and that way and keep time to the soft music of the wind. That is how all the flowers learn to dance.”
“Oh, I do so want to try,” replied Bella. “But it seems so hard to do.”
“No,” said the buttercup. “It is easy when you get used to it, but it takes time to learn. You can begin now.”
And all the tiny insects in the buttercup sang out, “Just sway this way and that way, That is the way to dance!”
Then Bella tried to sway, but her branches remained quite still. Bella felt more sad than ever.
One day soon after, her friend the rose came to visit Bella and said, “Oh, you poor little tree, how sadly you droop! Why do you not stand upright and hold yourself proudly?”
“I would if I could,” sighed Bella.
“You can!” replied her friend. “I will sing while you hold yourself as straight as you can.”
Then all the lovely flowers around chimed in together and sang, “Stand up straight and upright, Never bend down your head; And you will soon be happy, Little tree, now drooping sad.”
But Bella only sighed and murmured, “Oh, if I could dance, if I could dance I should feel so happy!”
“That is what you should always say,” sang the birds. “Pray for what you want, and you may get it. Only wish hard and hope for it.”
But Bella very much feared her roots would always hold her fast.
One night, after a bright day, the gentle wind blew softly over hill and plain, over forest and meadow. It glittered in the waters of the lake nearby, and in the night hours it wandered through the city streets, passing in and out so quietly that none heard its approach. Little Bella felt the soft hand of the wind playing with her leaves.
“Who moves me?” she said. “It is neither the rose, the buttercup, nor the birds.”
“Can it be the breeze that we often hear singing around us in the summer?” said the flowers.
But Bella did not ask to know, for she felt the wind pressing lightly against her branches and moving her to and fro and to and fro.
“Now I can sway from side to side, and I will dance,” the little tree thought joyfully. And sure enough, she danced: first forward, then backward, and then side long.
“I will try my best,” now sighed Bella. She bent far over, and then stood up straight, and offered her soft brown twigs to the gentle hand of the air.
Now the stars above saw what the little tree was doing, and began to dance too. Each bright star opened wide his shining eyes and looked down to gaze at the drifting clouds in the sky.
“What is the matter with the world today?” whispered the wind. “Is it a day of rejoicing without my knowing it?”
And he sang a soft, low tune, happy that he had been the first to call into movement the flowers, the little tree, and the stars.