t the prince and his
expected coming. The throng that swept in and out of the great edifice
talked always of the prince, the prince, the prince, until Barbara
really loved him very much, for all the gentle words she heard the
people say of him.

"Please, can I go and sit inside?" inquired Barbara of the sexton.

"No!" said the sexton gruffly, for this was an important occasion with
the sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child.

"But I will be very good and quiet," pleaded Barbara. "Please may I
not see the prince?"

"I have said no, and I mean it," retorted the sexton. "What have you
for the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and
don't be blocking up the door-way!" So the sexton gave Barbara an
angry push, and the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the
cathedral. She began to cry. Some great people were entering the
cathedral at the time, and they laughed to see her falling.

"Have you seen the prince?" inquired a snowflake, alighting on
Barbara's cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to
her shawl an hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his
boisterous search.

"Ah, no!" sighed Barbara in tears; "but what cares the prince for
_me_?"

"Do not speak so bitterly," said the little snowflake. "Go to the
forest and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the
forest to the city."

Despite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In
the forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would
not see her, for she would hide among the trees and vines.

"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" It was the mischievous, romping wind once
more; and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to
streaming in every direction, and swept the snowflake from her cheek
and sent it spinning through the air.

Barbara trudged toward the forest. When she came to the city gate the
watchman stopped her, and held his big lantern in her face, and asked
her who she was and where she was going.

"I am Barbara, and I am going into the forest," said she boldly.

"Into the forest?" cried the watchman, "and in this storm? No, child;
you will perish!"

"But I am going to see the prince," said Barbara. "They will not let
me watch for him in the church, nor in any of their pleasant homes, so
I am going into the forest."

The watchman smiled sadly. He was a kindly man; he thought of his own
little girl at home.

"No, you must