ired the pine-tree gruffly.

"Will you not tear me from my tree?" asked the vine.

"Will you not pluck my blossoms?" plaintively piped the snowdrop.

"No, of course not," said Barbara; "I have come only to watch with you
for the prince."

Then Barbara told them who she was, and how cruelly she had been
treated in the city, and how she longed to see the prince, who was to
come on the morrow. And as she talked, the forest and all therein felt
a great compassion for her.

"Lie at my feet," said the pine-tree, "and I will protect you."

"Nestle close to me, and I will chafe your temples and body and limbs
till they are warm," said the vine.

"Let me rest upon your cheek, and I will sing you my little songs,"
said the snowdrop.

And Barbara felt very grateful for all these homely kindnesses. She
rested in the velvety snow at the foot of the pine-tree, and the vine
chafed her body and limbs, and the little flower sang sweet songs to
her.

"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" There was that noisy wind again, but this time
it was gentler than it had been in the city.

"Here you are, my little Barbara," said the wind, in kindly tones. "I
have brought you the little snowflake. I am glad you came away from
the city, for the people are proud and haughty there; oh, but I will
have my fun with them!"

Then, having dropped the little snowflake on Barbara's cheek, the wind
whisked off to the city again. And we can imagine that it played rare
pranks with the proud, haughty folk on its return; for the wind, as
you know, is no respecter of persons.

"Dear Barbara," said the snowflake, "I will watch with thee for the
coming of the prince."

And Barbara was glad, for she loved the little snowflake, that was so
pure and innocent and gentle.

"Tell us, O pine-tree," cried the vine, "what do you see in the east?
Has the prince yet entered the forest?"

"The east is full of black clouds," said the pine-tree, "and the winds
that hurry to the hill-tops sing of the snow."

"But the city is full of brightness," said the fir. "I can see the
lights in the cathedral, and I can hear wondrous music about the
prince and his coming."

"Yes, they are singing of the prince in the cathedral," said Barbara
sadly.

"But we shall see him first," whispered the vine reassuringly.

"Yes, the prince will come through the forest," said the little
snowdrop gleefully.

"Fear not, dear Barbara, we shall behold the prince in all his glory,"
cried the snow