up again to the sky. Many a winter's night she flies through the streets and peeps in at the windows, and then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful patterns like flowers."
"Oh, yes, we have seen that," said both children, and then they knew it was true.
"Can the Snow Queen come in here?" asked the little girl.
"Just let her come," said the boy, "and I will put her on the stove, where she will melt."
But the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him more stories.
In the evening when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he crept up onto the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few snowflakes were falling, and one of these, the biggest, remained on the edge of the window-box. It grew bigger and bigger, till it became the figure of a woman, dressed in the finest white gauze, which appeared to be made of millions of starry flakes. She was delicately lovely, but all ice, glittering, dazzling ice. Still she was alive, her eyes shone like two bright stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She nodded to the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened and jumped down off the chair, and then he fancied that a big bird flew past the window. The next day was bright and frosty, and then came the thaw—and after that the spring. The sun shone, green buds began to appear, the swallows built their nests, and people began to open their windows. The little children began to play in their garden on the roof again. The roses were in splendid bloom that summer; the little girl had learnt a hymn, and there was something in it about roses, and that made her think of her own. She sang it to the little boy, and then he sang it with her:
"Where roses deck the flowery vale,
There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!"
The children took each other by the hands, kissed the roses, and rejoiced in God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it
