aughter 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
shan'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.'

[Footnote 26: From the Russian.]

'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, are you still warm? Are you still warm, little love?'

And the