And Barbara was glad, for she loved the little snowflake, that was so pure and innocent and gentle.

“Tell us, O pine-tree,” cried the vine, “what do you see in the east?  Has the prince yet entered the forest?”

“The east is full of black clouds,” said the pine-tree, “and the winds that hurry to the hill-tops sing of the snow.”

“But the city is full of brightness,” said the fir.  “I can see the lights in the cathedral, and I can hear wondrous music about the prince and his coming.”

“Yes, they are singing of the prince in the cathedral,” said Barbara sadly.

“But we shall see him first,” whispered the vine reassuringly.

“Yes, the prince will come through the forest,” said the little snowdrop gleefully.

“Fear not, dear Barbara, we shall behold the prince in all his glory,” cried the snowflake.

Then all at once there was a strange hub-bub in the forest; for it was midnight, and the spirits came from their hiding-places to prowl about and to disport themselves.  Barbara beheld them all in great wonder and trepidation, for she had never before seen the spirits of the forest, although she had often heard of them.  It was a marvellous sight.

[Illustration:  So Barbara fell asleep.]

“Fear nothing,” whispered the vine to Barbara,—­“fear nothing, for they dare not touch you.”

The antics of the wood-spirits continued but an hour; for then a cock crowed, and immediately thereat, with a wondrous scurrying, the elves and the gnomes and the other grotesque spirits sought their abiding-places in the caves and in the hollow trunks and under the loose bark of the trees.  And then it was very quiet once more in the forest.

“It is very cold,” said Barbara.  “My hands and feet are like ice.”

Then the pine-tree and the fir shook down the snow from their broad boughs, and the snow fell upon Barbara and covered her like a white mantle.

“You will be warm now,” said the vine, kissing Barbara’s forehead.  And Barbara smiled.

Then the snowdrop sang a lullaby about the moss that loved the violet.  And Barbara said, “I am going to sleep; will you wake me when the prince comes through the forest?”

And they said they would.  So Barbara fell asleep.

III

“The bells in the city are ringing merrily,” said the fir, “and the music in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than before.  Can it be that the prince has already come into the city?”

“No,” cried the pine-tree, “look to the east and see the Christmas day a-dawning!  The prince is coming, and his pathway is through the forest!”

The storm had ceased.  Snow lay upon all the earth.  The hills, the forest, the city, and the meadows were white with the robe the storm-king had thrown over them.  Content with his wondrous work, the storm-king himself had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn of the Christmas day.  Everything was bright and sparkling and beautiful.  And most beautiful was the great hymn of praise the forest sang that Christmas morning,—­the pine-trees and the firs and the vines and the snow-flowers that sang of the prince and of his promised coming.