ng for her, and
his name is Frost."

The old man stared, opened his mouth, and stopped eating. The little
maid, who had heard the last words, began to cry,

"Now, what are you whimpering about?" screamed the old woman. "Frost
is a rich bridegroom and a handsome one. See how much he owns. All the
pines and firs are his, and the birch trees. Any one would envy his
possessions, and he himself is a very bogatir,[2] a man of strength
and power."

The old man trembled, and said nothing in reply. And Martha went on
crying quietly, though she tried to stop her tears. The old man
packed up what was left of the black bread, told Martha to put on her
sheepskin coat, set her in the sledge and climbed in, and drove off
along the white, frozen road.

The road was long and the country open, and the wind grew colder and
colder, while the frozen snow blew up from under the hoofs of the mare
and spattered the sledge with white patches. The tale is soon told,
but it takes time to happen, and the sledge was white all over long
before they turned off into the forest.

They came in the end deep into the forest, and left the road, and over
the deep snow through the trees to the great fir. There the old man
stopped, told his daughter to get out of the sledge, set her little
box under the fir, and said, "Wait here for your bridegroom, and when
he comes be sure to receive him with kind words." Then he turned the
mare round and drove home, with the tears running from his eyes and
freezing on his cheeks before they had had time to reach his beard.

[Footnote 2: The bogatirs were strong men, heroes of old Russia.]

The little maid sat and trembled. Her sheepskin coat was worn through,
and in her blue bridal dress she sat, while fits of shivering shook
her whole body. She wanted to run away; but she had not strength to
move, or even to keep her little white teeth from chattering between
her frozen lips.

Suddenly, not far away, she heard Frost crackling among the fir trees,
just as he is crackling now. He was leaping from tree to tree,
crackling as he came.

He leapt at last into the great fir tree, under which the little maid
was sitting. He crackled in the top of the tree, and then called; down
out of the topmost branches,--

"Are you warm, little maid?"

"Warm, warm, little Father Frost."

Frost laughed, and came a little lower in the tree and crackled and
crackled louder than before. Then he asked,--

"Are you still warm, littl