'Why are you crying?' he asked; 'it makes you look so ugly!
There's nothing the matter with me. Just look! that rose is all
slug-eaten, and this one is stunted! What ugly roses they are!'

And he began to pull them to pieces.

'Kay, what are you doing?' cried the little girl.

And when he saw how frightened she was, he pulled off another
rose, and ran in at his window away from dear little Gerda.

When she came later on with the picture book, he said that it was
only fit for babies, and when his grandmother told them stories,
he was always interrupting with, 'But--' and then he would get
behind her and put on her spectacles, and speak just as she did.
This he did very well, and everybody laughed. Very soon he could
imitate the way all the people in the street walked and talked.

His games were now quite different. On a winter's day he would
take a burning glass and hold it out on his blue coat and let the
snow-flakes fall on it.

'Look in the glass, Gerda! Just see how regular they are! They
are much more interesting than real flowers. Each is perfect;
they are all made according to rule. If only they did not melt!'

One morning Kay came out with his warm gloves on, and his little
sledge hung over his shoulder. He shouted to Gerda, 'I am going
to the market-place to play with the other boys,' and away he
went.