Summer wore away; the oats in the forest were garnered and the vintage had begun in the vine-lands.

It was a right glorious sunny day; and if you ask me at which time of the year forest life is the sweeter, whether in Springtide or in Autumn, I could scarce say.
Aye, it is fair indeed in the woods when Spring comes gaily in.

Spring is the very Saviour, as it were, of all the numberless folk, great and small, which grow green and blossom there, wherefore the forest holds festival for his birthday and cradle feast as is but fitting! The fir-tree lights up brighter tips to its boughs, as children do with tapers at Christmastide.

Then comes the largesse.

It lasts much more than one evening, and the gifts bestowed on all are without number, and bright and various indeed to behold.