cheeks.

Well, time went on, and the little girl grew up, and the daughters of
the stepmother were as ugly as could be. Their eyes were always cross,
and their mouths were always complaining. Their mother saw that no one
would want to marry either of them while there was Martha about the
house, with her bright eyes and her songs and her kindness to
everybody.

So she thought of a way to get rid of her stepdaughter, and a cruel
way it was.

"See here, old man," says she, "it is high time Martha was married,
and I have a bridegroom in mind for her. To-morrow morning you must
harness the old mare to the sledge, and put a bit of food together and
be ready to start early, as I'd like to see you back before night."

To Martha she said: "To-morrow you must pack your things in a box, and
put on your best dress to show yourself to your betrothed."

"Who is he?" asked Martha with red cheeks.

"You will know when you see him," said the stepmother.

All that night Martha hardly slept. She could hardly believe that she
was really going to escape from the old woman at last, and have a hut
of her own, where there would be no one to scold her. She wondered who
the young man was. She hoped he was Fedor Ivanovitch, who had such
kind eyes, and such nimble fingers on the balalaika, and such a merry
way of flinging out his heels when he danced the Russian dance. But