Unwilling to Marry the Mole "You must work at your trousseau this summer," said the mouse to her, for their neighbour the tiresome mole in his black velvet coat had asked her to marry him. "You shall have both woollen and linen, you shall have wherewith to clothe and cover yourself when you become the mole's wife." Thumbelisa had to turn the distaff and the field-mouse hired four spiders to spin and weave day and night. The mole paid a visit every evening, and he was always saying that when the summer came to an end, the sun would not shine nearly so warmly, now it burnt the ground as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer was over, he would celebrate his marriage; but Thumbelisa was not at all pleased, for she did not care a bit for the tiresome mole. Every morning at sunrise and every evening at sunset, she used to steal out to the door, and when the wind blew aside the tops of the cornstalks so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how bright and lovely it was out there, and wished so much to see the dear swallow again; no doubt it was a long way off, flying about in the beautiful green woods. When the autumn came, all Thumbelisa's outfit was ready. "In four weeks you must be married," said the field-mouse to her. But Thumbelisa cried and said she would not have the tiresome mole for a husband. "Fiddle-dee-dee," said the field-mouse: "don't be obstinate or I shall bite you with my white tooth. You are going to have a splendid husband; the queen herself hasn't the equal of his black velvet coat; both his kitchen and cellar are full. You should thank heaven for such a husband!" So they were to be married; the mole had come to fetch Thumbelisa; she was to live deep down under the ground with him, and never to go out into the warm sunshine, for he could not bear it. The poor child was very sad at the thought of bidding goodbye to the beautiful sun; while she had been with the field-mouse, she had at least been allowed to look at it from the door. "Goodbye, you bright sun," she said, as she stretched out her arms towards it and went a little way outside the field-mouse's house, for now the harvest was over and only the stubble remained. "Goodbye, goodbye!" she said, and threw her tiny arms round a little red flower growing there. "Give my love to the dear swallow if you happen to see him." 
