"Old ones, old ones, now I know
Less you love me than a hen,
I shall melt away again.
To my motherkin I go--
Little daughter of the Snow."
And just then the door blew open from the yard, and a cold wind filled
the room, and the little daughter of the Snow was gone.
"You always used to say something else, grandfather," said Maroosia.
Old Peter patted her head, and went on.
"I haven't forgotten. The little snow girl leapt into the arms of
Frost her father and Snow her mother, and they carried her away over
the stars to the far north, and there she plays all through the summer
on the frozen seas. In winter she comes back to Russia, and some day,
you know, when you are making a snow woman, you may find the little
daughter of the Snow standing there instead."
"Wouldn't that be lovely!" said Maroosia.