histmss-074991-0043

My brother March, you look at (take care
of) this.

March rose in his turn and stirred the
fire with the stick. Then the flame
rose, the snow melted, the grass became
green, the flowers showed themselves under
the vedure, the violets opened. It
is spring.

Quickly, my child pick thy violets, said
March.

Mary made a big bouquet, thanked the
twelve months, and ran joyously
home. Hen mother and sister are
much surprised.

Where did you find these beautiful
flowers, demanded Henrietta of her,
in a scornful tone.

Up there, on the mountain, answer-
ed Mary. They were like a big blue
rug under the bushes.

Henrietta took the bouquet, put
them in her belt and did not even
say thanks to the poor child.