ot by the fire and the bundle of wood near by, and
everything just as they had left it, they looked at each other with
tears in their eyes and no longer feared that it was all a dream. In
another minute there was a little white fur cap hanging on the corner of
the mantelpiece and two little shoes drying by the fire, while the old
wife took the little girl on her lap and crooned a lullaby over her.

The old man put his hand on his wife's shoulder and she looked up.

'Marusha!'

'Youshko!'

'At last we have a little girl! We made her out of the snow, so we will
call her Snegorotchka.'

The old wife nodded her head, and then they kissed each other. When they
had all had supper, they went to bed, the old husband and wife feeling
sure that they would wake early in the morning to find the child still
with them. And they were not disappointed. There she was, sitting up
between them, prattling and laughing. But she had grown bigger, and her
hair was now twice as long as at first. When she called them 'Little
Father' and 'Little Mother' they were so delighted that they felt like
dancing as nimbly as they had in their young days. But, instead of
dancing, they just kissed each other, and wept for joy.

That day they held a big feast. The old wife was busy all the morning
cooking all kinds of dainties, while the old man went round the village
and collected the fiddlers. All the boys and girls of the village were
invited, and they ate and sang and danced and had a merry time till
daybreak. As they went home, the girls all talked at once about how much
they had enjoyed themselves, but the boys were very silent;--they were
thinking of the beautiful Snegorotchka with the blue eyes and the golden
hair.

Every day after that Snegorotchka played with the other children, and
taught them how to make castles and palaces of snow, with marble halls
and thrones and beautiful fountains. The snow seemed to let her do
whatever she liked with it, and to build itself up under her tiny
fingers as if it knew exactly what shape it was to take. They were all
greatly delighted with the wonderful things she made; but when she
showed them how to dance as the snowflakes do, first in a brisk whirl,
and then softly and lightly, they could think of nothing else but
Snegorotchka. She was the little fairy queen of the children, the
delight of the older people, and the very breath of life to old Marusha
and Youshko.

And now the winter months moved on.