"Fair queen, there is none in all the land
So beautiful as thou."

Then had her envious heart rest, at least such rest as a heart full of
envy and malice ever can have.

The little dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found poor
Snow-white on the ground; but though they lifted her up, there were no
signs of breath from her mouth, and they found she was really dead. Yet
they tried in every way to restore her; they tried to extract the poison
from her lips, they combed her hair, and washed it with wine and water,
but all to no purpose: the dear child gave no signs of life, and at last
they knew she was dead. Then they laid her on a bier, and the seven
dwarfs seated themselves round her, and wept and mourned for three days.
They would have buried her then, but there was no change in her
appearance; her face was as fresh, and her cheeks and lips had their
usual colour. Then said one, "We cannot lay this beautiful child in the
dark, cold earth."

So they agreed to have a coffin made entirely of glass, transparent all
over, that they might watch for any signs of decay, and they wrote in
letters of gold her name on the lid, and that she was the daughter of a
king. The coffin was placed on the side of the mountain, and each of
them watched it by turns, so that it was never left alone. And the birds
of the air came near and mourned for Snow-white; first the owl, then the
raven, and at last the dove. Snow-white lay for a long, long time in the
glass coffin, but showed not the least signs of decay. It seemed as if
she slept; for her skin was snow white, her cheeks rosy red, and her
hair black as ebony.