But the wind did not hear her answer, for it had hurried up the street to
throw a handful of snow in the face of an old man who was struggling along
with a huge basket of good things on each arm.

"Why are you not at the cathedral?" asked a snowflake, as it alighted on
Barbara's shoulder. "I heard grand music, and saw beautiful lights there
as I floated down from the sky a moment ago."

"What are they doing at the cathedral?" inquired Barbara.

"Why, haven't you heard?" exclaimed the snowflake. "I supposed everybody
knew that the prince was coming to-morrow."

"Surely enough; this is Christmas eve," said Barbara, "and the prince will
come tomorrow."

Barbara remembered that her mother had told her about the prince, how
beautiful and good and kind and gentle he was, and how he loved the little
children; but her mother was dead now, and there was none to tell Barbara
of the prince and his coming,--none but the little snowflake.

"I should like to see the prince," said Barbara, "for I have heard he was
very beautiful and good."

"That he is," said the snowflake. "I have never seen him, but I heard the
pines and the firs singing about him as I floated over the forest
to-night."

"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" cried the wind, returning boisterously to where