“I must be away foraging, my friend,” he said to the egg. “But I will come back soon.”
“When you can spare a moment, my dear fellow,” said the egg, “I will be here.”
So, throughout the nights of Advent and Christmas, the rat visited the egg.
Until, one night, the 6th of January to be precise, the rat poked his head out of his hole and scuttled across the carpet to the Christmas tree, looking forward to the latest news from the egg. The he stopped in shock and horror. The Christmas tree was gone! The smell of the pine needles, the pretty lights, the chocolate soldiers, the man in the red suit, the fairy, and worst of all, his beloved friend the egg, all vanished! He looked around the room, wildly. Perhaps it had been moved? Perhaps the egg was hidden somewhere else? But it was all in vain.
The rat felt too miserable to go foraging. He went back to his hole and sat on his bed of newspapers, too sad to move. He tried to be positive, like the egg. He tried to think of the beautiful grass, the leaves, the sky, the taste of last night’s dinner, but it seemed blank and grey without the egg to share it with.