spruce twigs, and with two jagged stones she had erected Klack
Mountain and Olaf's Peak on either side of the Dal River. The long
valley in between the mountains had been covered with mould taken
from one of her mother's flowerpots. So far everything was all
right, only she had not been able to make the galley blossom. But
she comforted herself by pretending it was early springtime, before
grass and grain had sprouted.

The broad, beautiful Dal River that flows through the valley she
had managed to lay out effectively with a long and narrow piece of
glass, and the floating bridge connecting both sides of the parish,
had been making on the water this long while. The more distant
farms and settlements were marked off by pieces of red brick.
Farthest north, amid fields and meadows, lay the Ingmar Farm. To
the east was the village of Kolasen, at the foot of the mountain.
At the extreme south, where the river, with rapids and falls,
leaves the valley and rushes under the mountain, was Bergsana
Foundry.

The entire landscape was now ready, with country roads laid out
along the river, sanded and gravelled. Groves had also been set
out, here and there, on the plains and near the cottages. The
little girl had only to cast a glance at her structure of glass and
stone and earth and twigs to see before her the whole parish. And
she thought it all very beautiful.

Time after time she raised her head to call her mother and show her
what she had done, then changed her mind. She had always found it
wiser not to call attention to herself. But the most difficult work
of all was yet to come: the building up of the town on both sides