"No!" said the sexton, gruffly, for this was an important occasion with
the sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child.

"But I will be very good and quiet," pleaded Barbara. "Please, may I not
see the prince?"

"I have said no, and I mean it," retorted the sexton. "What have you for
the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and don't be
blocking up the doorway!" So the sexton gave Barbara an angry push, and
the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the cathedral. She began to
cry. Some great people were entering the cathedral at the time, and they
laughed to see her falling.

"Have you seen the prince?" inquired a snowflake, alighting on Barbara's
cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to her shawl an
hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his boisterous search.

"Ah, no!" sighed Barbara, in tears; "but what cares the prince for _me_?"

"Do not speak so bitterly," said the little snowflake. "Go to the forest
and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the forest to
the city."

Despite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In the
forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would not see
her, for she would hide among the trees and vines.

"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" It was the mischievous, romping wind once more;
and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to streaming