leasant of look, that they called
her Snowflower. This girl was good as well as pretty. No one had ever
seen her frown or heard her say a cross word, and young and old were
glad when they saw her coming.

Snowflower had no relation in the world but a very old grandmother,
called Dame Frostyface. People did not like her quite so well as her
granddaughter, for she was cross enough at times, though always kind to
Snowflower. They lived together in a little cottage built of peat and
thatched with reeds, on the edge of a great forest. Tall trees sheltered
its back from the north wind, and the midday sun made its front warm and
cheerful. Swallows built in the eaves, and daisies grew thick at the
door.

But there were none in all that country poorer than Snowflower and her
grandmother. A cat and two hens were all their live stock. Their bed was
dry grass, and the only good piece of furniture in the cottage was a
great armchair with wheels on its feet, a black velvet cushion, and many
strange carvings of flowers and fairies on its dark oaken back.

On that chair Dame Frostyface sat spinning from morning till night, to
keep herself and her granddaughter, while Snowflower gathered sticks for
the fire, looked after the hens and the cat, and did whatever else her
grandmother bade her. There was nobody in that part of the country could
spin such fine yarn as Dame Frostyface, but she spun very slowly. Her
wheel was as old as herself, and far more worn-out. Indeed, the wonder
was that it did not fall to pieces. So what the dame earned was very
little, and their living was scanty. Snowflower, however, felt no want
of good dinners or fine clothes.

Every evening, when the fire was heaped with the sticks she had gathered
till it blazed and crackled up the cottage chimney, Dame Frostyface set
aside her wheel and told her a new story. Often did the little girl
wonder where her grandmother had gathered so many stories, but she soon
learned that.

One sunny morning, at the time of the coming of the swallows, the dame
rose up, put on the grey hood and cloak in which she carried her yarn to
the fairs, and said: "My child, I am going a long journey to visit an
aunt of mine, who lives far in the north country. I cannot take you with
me, because my aunt is the crossest woman alive, and never liked young
people. But the hens will lay eggs for you, and there is barley meal in
the barrel. And, as you have been a good girl, I'll tell you what to