` Perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer , ' she thought . ` How much pleasure he did give me , dear little bird ! ' The mole closed up the hole again which let in the light , and then escorted the ladies home . But Thumbelina could not sleep that night ; so she got out of bed , and plaited a great big blanket of straw , and carried it off , and spread it over the dead bird , and piled upon it thistle-down as soft as cotton-wool , which she had found in the field-mouse 's room , so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried . ` Farewell , pretty little bird ! ' she said . ` Farewell , and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer , when the trees were green , and the sun shone down warmly on us ! ' Then she laid her head against the bird 's heart . But the bird was not dead : he had been frozen , but now that she had warmed him , he was coming to life again . In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands ; but there are some who are late in starting , and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead , and the snow comes and covers them over . Thumbelina trembled , she was so frightened ; for the bird was very large in comparison with herself -- only an inch high . But she took courage , piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow , fetched her own coverlid and laid it over his head . Next night she crept out again to him . There he was alive , but very weak ; he could only open his eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina , who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand , for she had no other lantern . ` Thank you , pretty little child ! ' said the swallow to her . ' I am so beautifully warm ! Soon I shall regain my strength , and then I shall be able to fly out again into the warm sunshine . ' ` Oh ! ' she said , ` it is very cold outside ; it is snowing and freezing !
stay XXXXX your warm bed ; I will take care of you ! '
against at for in into on outside over that to