oof left for everybody to have a little garden; and
where, on this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves
with flowers in pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden
somewhat larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother and sister; but
they cared for each other as much as if they were. Their parents lived
exactly opposite. They inhabited two garrets; and where the roof of the
one house joined that of the other, and the gutter ran along the extreme
end of it, there was to each house a small window: one needed only to
step over the gutter to get from one window to the other.

The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables
for the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a
rose in each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing
the boxes across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window
to the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers. The tendrils
of the peas hung down over the boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long
branches, twined round the windows, and then bent towards each other: it
was almost like a triumphant arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were
very high, and the children knew that they must not creep over them; so
they often obtained permission to get out of the windows to each other,
and to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they could play
delightfully. In winter there was an end of this pleasure. The windows
were often frozen over; but then they heated copper farthings on the
stove, and laid the hot farthing on the windowpane, and then they had a
capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded; and out of each peeped a gentle
friendly eye--it was the little boy and the little girl who were looking
out. His name was Kay, hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they
could get to each other; but in winter they were obliged first to
go down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and
out-of-doors there was quite a snow-storm.

"It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother.

"Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew
that the honey-bees always have one.

"Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the
thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain
quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a
winter's night she flies through the streets of the town, and pe