THE LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE SNOW

Something to Find Out.—Why the little snow girl left the old man and the old woman.

Ⅰ. HOW THE SNOW GIRL CAME TO THE OLD PEOPLE

Once an old, old man and an old, old woman lived in a little village in Russia, where the snow lay deep in the winter. Their hut stood not far from a great forest. Eight or nine huts, just like their own, stood near by.

It was a merry little village, and the old man and his wife never needed to be lonely. They could have company whenever they wished, and they had cats and dogs and cocks and hens, besides. But the two old people were very unhappy, and this is the reason why.

All the other huts had babies and children in them, but the old man and his wife had none.These two old people would often stand at their window watching the children as they played in the road, and wish and wish for a child of their own.

One winter day they watched the happy children in their warm coats and heavy boots playing in the snow. The children threw snowballs at each other, and laughed and shouted merrily. Then they rolled the snow together and made an ugly old snow woman.

When the old people had stood at the window for a long time, the old man turned to his wife and said, “Good wife, let us go into the yard and make a little snow girl. Perhaps she will become alive, and be a little daughter to us.”

“Husband,” said the old woman, “there is no telling what wonderful thing may happen. Let us make a lovely little snow girl.”

So these two old people put on their big coats and their warm caps, and went out into the back yard where nobody could see them. They rolled up the snow and began to make a little snow girl. When she was finished she was lovelier than a birch tree in spring. There she stood before them, a beautiful little snow girl, all white, with her eyes and lips tightly closed.

“Oh, speak to us!” cried the old man.

“Won't you become alive and run about like the other children?” begged the old woman.

And the little snow girl did. She really did.

Suddenly the two old people saw her blue eyes shining like the sky on a clear day. Then she opened her lips and smiled at them. Her hair became black, and it blew about her face in the wind.

Then she began dancing in the snow, tossing her long hair, and laughing softly to herself. She danced as lightly as snowflakes whirl in the wind. And as she danced she sang this song:

“I'll stay with you, and sing and play

By frosty night and frosty day,

Little Daughter of the Snow.

But whenever I do know

That you do not love me, then

I shall go away again.

Back into the sky I'll go,

Little Daughter of the Snow.”

“Oh! oh! oh!” said the old man. “Isn't she beautiful ? I will run and get her some clothes.”

So he ran to a neighbor's house and borrowed a fur hat and a pair of leather boots for the little snow girl. When he came back, his wife was making her a little coat. In the evening the old people dressed the little Daughter of the Snow.

“Too hot, too hot!” cried the little snow girl. “I must go out into the cool night.”

“But it is time to go to sleep now,” said the old woman.

“No, no,” sang the little snow girl. “I'll dance and play by frosty night and frosty day. I'll play by myself all night in the yard, and in the morning I'll play in the road with the other children.”

Nothing the old people said could make her change her mind. “I am the little Daughter of the Snow,” she said, as she ran into the yard.

How she danced and ran about in the moonlight on the white, frozen snow!

The old people watched her for a long while. At last they went to bed, but more than once the old man got up in the night to make sure that she was still there. And there she was, chasing her shadow in the moonlight and throwing snowballs at the stars.

In the morning she came in, laughing, to have breakfast with the old people. She showed them how to make porridge for her, and it was a very simple way, indeed. They had only to take a piece of ice and crush it in a wooden bowl.

Then after breakfast the little snow girl ran out into the road to play with the other children. As the old people looked out of the window, how happy they were to see a child of their own playing with the boys and girls they had watched so often!

The little snow girl could run faster than any of them. Her little boots flashed as she ran about. After a while she helped her playmates make a snow woman. She laughed merrily all the time.

When the snow woman was made, all the children threw snowballs at it till it fell to pieces;and the little snow girl was so quick that she threw more snowballs than any of the others.

The old man and the old woman watched her.

“She is all our own,” said the old man, proudly.

“She is our little white pigeon,” said the old woman.

In the evening the little snow girl had another bowl of ice porridge, and then started off again to play by herself in the yard.

“You'll sleep in the hut tonight, won't you, my love?” asked the old woman.

But the little Daughter of the Snow only laughed, as she ran out into the yard again.

So it went all through the winter. The little snow girl danced and sang most of the time. She always ran out when night came, and played by herself until dawn. Then she would come in and have her ice porridge. After that she would play with the other children until supper time, when she would once more eat ice porridge; then she would play all night until dawn came again.

II. HOW THE SNOW GIRL WAS LOST

The little snow girl was very good. She did everything the old people asked her to do, except one thing. She would never sleep indoors.

All the children of the village loved her. They did not know how they had ever played without her. Often in the sunny part of the day the children went together a little way into the forest. Of course the little snow girl went with them. It would have been no fun without her.

One day the children went to the woods as usual. But when it was time to turn back, the little snow girl tossed her head and ran on, laughing, among the trees. The other children were afraid to follow her, for it was getting late in the afternoon. They waited as long as they dared, and then they ran home, holding each other's hands. The little snow girl was left in the forest all alone!

She looked back for the other children, but she could not see them. She climbed up into a tree, but still she could not see her little friends.

Then she called from the tree, “Ai, Ai, little friends, have pity on the snow girl!”

An old brown bear heard her, and came shambling along on his heavy paws. “What are you crying about, little Daughter of the Snow?”he asked.

“O big bear,” said the snow girl, “how can I help crying? I have lost my way, and all of my little friends have gone.”

“I will take you home,” said the big bear.

“O brown bear,” said the little snow girl, “you are so big that I am afraid of you.”

The brown bear went away and left her.

A gray wolf had heard her, and he came gallop-ing up on his swift feet. “What are you crying about, little Daughter of the Snow?” he asked.

“O gray wolf,” said the little snow girl, “how can I help crying? I have lost my way, and all of my little friends have gone.”

“I will take you home,” said the wolf.

“O gray wolf,” said the little snow girl, “I am afraid of you. Sometimes you are so fierce.”

The gray wolf galloped away and left her.

An old red fox had heard her, and he came running swiftly up to the tree. He called out cheerfully, “What are you crying about, little Daughter of the Snow?”

“O red fox,” said the little snow girl, “how can I help crying? I have lost my way, and all of my little friends have gone.”

“I will take you home,” said the old red fox.

“O red fox,” said the little snow girl, “I am not afraid of you. I will let you take me home.”

So she scrambled down from the tree, and jumped upon his back. Off they went through the dark forest.

III. WHY THE SNOW GIRL LEFT THE OLD PEOPLE

Soon they saw the lights in the windows of the huts. In a few minutes they were at the door of the hut that belonged to the old man and the old woman.

There they saw the two old people crying and crying. “What has become of our little snow girl?” they said. “Where is our little white pigeon?”

“Here I am!” cried the little snow girl. “The kind red fox has brought me home. You must shut up the dogs.”

The old man went away and shut up the dogs. When he came back he said to the fox,“We are very grateful to you.”

“Are you really?” said the old red fox. “Well, I am hungry.”

“Here is a nice crust of bread for you,” said the old woman.

“Oh.” said the fox, “I do not care for bread. What I would like is a nice plump hen. After all, your little snow girl is worth a nice plump hen.”

“Very well,” said the old woman. But she whispered to her husband, “It seems a pity to give away a good plump hen, now that we have our little snow girl safe home again.”

“So it does, so it does!” whispered he.

“Well, I have been thinking of something,” said the old woman. Then she whispered in his ear what she meant to do.

Off went the old man and got two sacks. Into one sack the old people put a fine plump hen, and into the other they put the fiercest of the dogs. Then they took the bags outside and called to the fox. The old red fox came up to them, licking his lips because he was so hungry.

The old man opened one sack, and out fluttered the hen. Then quickly he opened the other, and out jumped the fierce dog. The poor hungry fox ran back into the deep forest as fast as he could go.

“That was well done,” said the two old people. “We have our little snow girl, and we did not have to give away a hen, either.”

As they stood there laughing at the trick they had played on the fox, they heard the little snow girl singing in the hut. This is what she sang:

“Good-bye, dear friends, good-bye, good-bye;

Back I go across the sky.

To my motherkin I go,

Little Daughter of the Snow.

Because you love me less than a hen,

I must go away again.”

The two old people ran into the house. There they saw the little snow girl taking off her fur hat, her coat, and her little boots. Again she sang:

“Good-bye, dear friends, good-bye, good-bye;Back I go across the sky.”

“Do not go, do not go!” begged the old man and the old woman.

But the little snow girl sang in a sweet voice:

“To my motherkin I go,

Little Daughter of the Snow.

Some time I may come again,

If you'll love me more than a hen.”

“Oh, we will, we will!” cried the two old people.

Just then the wind blew the door open, and the little snow girl danced out and was gone. She leaped into the arms of Frost, her father, and Snow, her mother. They carried her away over the stars to the far North, where she played all summer on the frozen sea.

But when winter time came again to the little village in Russia, the little snow girl came back to the two old people, who learned to love her more than anything else in the world—even more than a hen.

—Arthur Ransome