right down on her arm stretched along the floor. Her face lay turned
towards the children, and they saw the mirth slowly fade in her great
black eyes, the lids drop lower and lower,--and then she was asleep
suddenly. Now she looked almost as young as themselves, and like a pale
child who has fallen to sleep at its play.

But the children did not stop to look at her. Once they were sure she
was asleep they were off searching for the door. Up and down the stairs
and all around the rooms they ran on tiptoes. But it was no use, and at
last they came back to the window.

"We must jump," whispered Ivra.

Eric looked down, and wondered. It was a long way to the ground!

"The snow is soft beneath the crust," Ivra said. "It will only cut us a
little."

"Let's take the bird," Eric said. Ivra ran to it, and opened the cage
door. It hopped onto her finger eagerly, and she held its bill so that
it would not sing.

Eric opened the window. "I'll jump first," he whispered.

But Ivra said, "Oh, let's hold hands and jump together."

The Beautiful Wicked Witch felt the cold night air from the window on
her face, and stirred in her sleep. Her eyelids quivered. So the
children did not wait a minute more. They climbed up onto the window
sill, Ivra still holding the bird. "One, two, three," she whispered, and