each of the goats and ran off to the woods for her berries. Then she ate her luncheon.
“Ah, my little goats,” she sighed, as she brushed up the crumbs for the birds, “I mustn’t dance today.”
“Why mustn’t you dance today?” a sweet voice asked, and there stood the beautiful maiden as though she had fallen from the clouds.
Betushka was worse frightened than before and she closed her eyes tight. When the maiden repeated her question, Betushka answered timidly:
“Forgive me, beautiful lady, for not dancing with you. If I dance with you I cannot spin my stint and then my mother will scold me. Today before the sun sets I must make up for what I lost yesterday.”
“Come, child, and dance,” the maiden said. “Before the sun sets we’ll find some way of getting that spinning done!”
She tucked up her skirt, put her arm about Betushka, the musicians in the treetops struck up, and off they whirled. The maiden danced more beautifully than ever. Betushka couldn’t take her eyes from her. She forgot her goats, she forgot her spinning. All she wanted to do was to dance on forever.
At sundown the maiden paused and the music stopped. Then Betushka, clasping her hands to her
