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other.

The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables for
the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a rose in
each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes
across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to the other,
and looked just like two walls of flowers. The tendrils of the peas hung down
over the boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long branches, twined round the
windows, and then bent towards each other: it was almost like a triumphant
arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew
that they must not creep over them; so they often obtained permission to get
out of the windows to each other, and to sit on their little stools among the
roses, where they could play delightfully. In winter there was an end of this
pleasure. The windows were often frozen over; but then they heated copper
farthings on the stove, and laid the hot farthing on the windowpane, and then
they had a capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded; and out of each peeped a
gentle friendly eye--it was the little boy and the little girl who were
looking out. His name was Kay, hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they
could get to each other; but in winter they were obliged first to go down the
long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and out-of-doors there was
quite a snow-storm.

"It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother.

"Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew that the
honey-bees always have one.

"Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest
clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the
earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night she
flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and they
then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers."

"Yes, I have seen it," said both the children; and so they knew that it was
true.

"Can the Snow Queen come in?" said the little girl.

"Only let her come in!" said the little boy. "Then I'd put her on the stove,
and she'd melt."

And then his grandmother patted his head and told him other stories.

In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he climbed up
on the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few
snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the
edge of a flower-pot.

The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young
lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like
stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling,
sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars; but
there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She nodded towards the window, and
beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and jumped down from

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