Once upon a time, Jupiter had some beautiful silver spoons stolen from
him. Knowing that one of the trees of the forest was the thief, he
called Ganymede, his cupbearer, and told him to go and find out which
tree had done this wrong thing, so that he might recover the spoons and
punish the thief.
Off went Ganymede into the forest, and first he went to the oak: “My
lord Jupiter’s silver spoons have been stolen, and one of the trees of
the forest has taken them. I have come to find the spoons and the thief;
Oak, do you know anything of this matter?” But the oak shook all his
great branches and his breath roared through them with rage. Said he: “I
am king of the trees, and have thousands of golden cups and emerald
plates; why should I be accused of stealing common silver spoons? I have
never even heard of them.”
So Ganymede bowed low, made his apology, and passed on. Next he went to
a lovely birch, and of her he asked the same question; but the birch
drew herself up haughtily and answered: “I have silver enough of my own
without stealing other people’s. I know nothing about my lord Jupiter’s
spoons.” Again Ganymede bowed low, asking the lady of the forest to
pardon him, and went on to the other trees.
The beech tree showered thousands of prickly nuts on him for his pains;
the elm tree nearly blew him off the earth at such an insulting
question, and the fir tree pelted him with cones.
At last Ganymede came to the poplar: “Dear me,” answered this tree, in
reply to the cupbearer’s question, “How very shocking to think that any
tree could do such a dreadful thing as to steal my lord Jupiter’s
spoons. Well, whoever it is, it is not I.”
To make Ganymede believe how innocent he was, the poplar threw up all
his branches to show he could not be hiding the spoons anywhere, but he
had not tucked them away safe enough, and as he held up his arms, out
clattered the spoons on every side.
Ganymede picked them up, and ran back to Jupiter. He told him that the
poplar was not only a thief but a story-teller. Jupiter was so angry
that he punished the poplar by making him hold up his branches for
evermore.
[Illustration: Story page layout titled 'MISTLETOE' featuring small
clusters of white berries on a blue background and a large detailed
sketch of tangled mistletoe branches.]