* * * * *

They drove on over the flat open country, with no hedges, but only
ditches to drain off the floods, and very often not even ditches to
divide one field from another. And huge crows, with gray hoods and
shawls, pecked about in the grass at the roadside or flew heavily in
the sunshine. They passed a little girl with a flock of geese, and
another little girl lying in the grass holding a long rope which was
fastened to the horns of a brown cow. And the little girl lay on her
face and slept among the flowers, while the cow walked slowly round
her, step by step, chewing the grass and thinking about nothing at
all.

And at last they came to the village, where the road was wider; and
instead of one pair of ruts there were dozens, and the cart bumped
worse than ever. The broad earthy road had no stones in it; and in
places where the puddles would have been deeper than the axles of the
wheels, it had been mended by laying down fir logs and small branches
in the puddles, and putting a few spadefuls of earth on the top of
them.

The road ran right through the village. On either side of it were
little wooden huts. The ends of the timbers crossed outside at the
four corners of the huts. They fitted neatly into each other, and some
of them were carved. And there were no slates or tiles on the roofs,
but little thin slips of wood overlapping each other. There was not a
single stone hut or cottage in the village. Only the church was partly
brick, whitewashed, with bright green cupolas up in the air, and thin
gold crosses on the tops of the cupolas, shining in the clear sky.

Outside the church were rows of short posts, with long rough fir
timbers nailed on the top of them, to which the country people tied
their horses when they came to church. There were several carts there
already, with bright-coloured rugs lying on the hay in them; and the
horses were eating hay or biting the logs. Always, except when the
logs are quite new, you can tell the favourite places for tying up
horses to them, because the timbers will have deep holes in them,
where they have been gnawed away by the horses' teeth. They bite the
timbers, while their masters eat sunflower seeds, not for food, but to
pass the time.

"Now then," said old Peter, as he got down from the cart, tied the
horse, gave him an armful of hay from the cart, and lifted the
children out. "Be quick. We shall be late if we don't take care. I
be