PRETTY
MAR-
USCHKA

She courtesied to the twelve Months, thanked them
cordially,-and hurried home.
Helena was astonished as she saw her come to
the house, and she ran to open the door. The
whole cottage was fragrant with the odour of the
strawberries.
“Where did you gather them ?’ asked Helena.
‘High up on the mountains, under a brown rock.’
Helena took the strawberries, and ate them with
her mother. She never offered even one to pretty
Maruschka.
Next day, Helena had again no appetite for her
supper.
‘Oh, if I had only ripe apples!’ she said; and
then, turning to her sister, she ordered, ‘Run,
Maruschka, run into the wood and gather me
some ripe apples.’
‘Dear sister, this is not the time of the year for
apples. Whoever heard of apples ripening in an
icy wind ?’
But her stepmother cried out, ‘Run, Maruschka,
fetch the apples as your sister has required, or I
will strike you dead.’
And she thrust her from the door into the cold
winter night-air.
The maiden hastened, sobbing, into the wood; the
snow lay deep, and nowhere was there a human ~
footprint. The new moon glimmered in a clear
sky, and sent its feeble beams into the forest deeps,
forming little trembling, silvery pools of light, which
appeared and vanished, and formed again. Anda
low wind whispered a great secret in the trees, but
so faint was the tone that none could make out
what it said. There was a little opening in the
wood; in the midst stood a grey wolf looking up
at the moon and howling; but when Maruschka
came near, it fled, and was lost among the shadows.
The poor maiden shivered with cold, and her teeth
chattered. Her lips were purple and her cheeks
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