They began blowing on their fingers.

And Frost came nearer and nearer, crackling, laughing, talking to
himself, just as he is doing to-day. Nearer and nearer he came,
leaping from tree-top to tree-top, till at last he leapt into the
great fir under which the two girls were sitting and quarrelling.

He leant down, looking through the branches, and asked,--

"Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, little red cheeks? Are you warm,
little pigeons?"

"Ugh, Frost, the cold is hurting us. We are frozen. We are waiting for
our bridegrooms, but the cursed fellows have not turned up."

Frost came a little lower in the tree, and crackled louder and
swifter.

"Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, my little red cheeks?"

"Go to the devil!" they cried out. "Are you blind? Our hands and feet
are frozen!"

Frost came still lower in the branches, and cracked and crackled
louder than ever.

"Are you warm, maidens?" he asked.

"Into the pit with you, with all the fiends," the girls screamed at