" I must try and find my way to Grandfather," repeated Rosella falteringly, realising that she didn't know in the least how to proceed. She never had a notion that a Snow Castle was so intricate inside, with a hall, a lift, a grotto, and things; indeed, she had always imagined for no particular reason that it had no inside at all; " but of course," she now argued, " if it has an outside it must have an inside, or it wouldn't be an outside." But it was much more startling when she looked up and found that she was by no means alone: the cobwebs were all inhabited. Inhabited—not by ugly spiders, but by the wee-est little baby-fairies with the wee-est gossamer wings, swaying in their cobweb hammocks in all attitudes, fast asleep, soothed by the lullaby hummed by the wind.
" This must be where they are bred!" cried Rosella, in an ecstasy of admiration and delight.
" This is Fairy Spring's nursery," explained a beautiful Sprite, appearing suddenly at her elbow like a little bright sunbeam. " King Frost is the ground landlord, you know, and allows all her young things to sleep here and keep warm."
" And who are you, please?" inquired the Sprite's young visitor.
" I am Love of Goodwill, and my father's name is Christmas."
" I know you by name quite well, and am so