“The little louse has burnt herself, The little flea is weeping, The little door is creaking, The little broom is sweeping, The little cart is running.”

The little tree said, “Then I will shake myself,” and began to shake herself so that all her leaves fell off; a girl who came up with her water-pitcher saw that, and said, “Little tree, why art thou shaking thyself?”

“Have I not reason to shake myself?