Act III   

The friends run out to play in what is a prairie now.  Three pronghorns rise to their feet as the children approach; two move off, but one gazes at the children, and the child in the middle returns the gaze.  It is hard for a tree to take root in this wind-swept prairie, but in the grasses she sees the colors that settled on the tree the evening before.  She stands quietly, so that the tree of red and gold takes root in her. 

Her two friends have run off, following their families to explore the West.  Perhaps they will touch with their own hands the gold of their stories.  The girl is alone, but it is daylight, the tree is once more a tree of green, and before her lies a new day of new stories. 

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