d her own way in everything, and whatever
she did was right in her mother's eyes; but the poor step-daughter had
a hard time. Let her do what she would, she was always blamed, and got
small thanks for all the trouble she took; nothing was right, everything
wrong; and yet, if the truth were known, the girl was worth her weight
in gold--she was so unselfish and good-hearted. But her step-mother did
not like her, and the poor girl's days were spent in weeping; for it
was impossible to live peacefully with the woman. The wicked shrew was
determined to get rid of the girl by fair means or foul, and kept saying
to her father: 'Send her away, old man; send her away--anywhere so that
my eyes sha'n't be plagued any longer by the sight of her, or my ears
tormented by the sound of her voice. Send her out into the fields, and
let the cutting frost do for her.'

In vain did the poor old father weep and implore her pity; she was firm,
and he dared not gainsay her. So he placed his daughter in a sledge,
not even daring to give her a horse-cloth to keep herself warm with, and
drove her out on to the bare, open fields, where he kissed her and left
her, driving home as fast as he could, that he might not witness her
miserable death.

Deserted by her father, the poor girl sat down under a fir-tree at the
edge of the forest and began to weep silently. Suddenly she heard a
faint sound: it was King Frost springing from tree to tree, and cracking
his fingers as he went. At length he reached the fir-tree beneath which
she was sitting, and with a crisp crackling sound he alighted beside
her, and looked at her lovely face.

'Well, maiden,' he snapped out, 'do you know who I am? I am King Frost,
king of the red-noses.'

'All hail to you, great King!' answered the girl, in a gentle, trembling
voice. 'Have you come to take me?'

'Are you warm, maiden?' he replied.

'Quite warm, King Frost,' she answered, though she shivered as she
spoke.

Then King Frost stooped down, and bent over the girl, and the crackling
sound grew louder, and the air seemed to be full of knives and darts;
and again he asked:

'Maiden, are you warm? Are you warm, you beautiful girl?'

And though her breath was almost frozen on her lips, she whispered
gently, 'Quite warm, King Frost.'

Then King Frost gnashed his teeth, and cracked his fingers, and his eyes
sparkled, and the crackling, crisp sound was louder than ever, and for
the last time he asked her:

'Maiden