of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. And it was of this
which she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the
other, she sat cowering down. She had drawn under her little feet, but
still she grew colder and colder; yet she dared not go home, for she
had sold no matches, and could not bring a penny of money. Her father
would certainly beat her; and, besides, it was cold enough at home,
for they had only the houseroof above them; and, though the largest
holes had been stopped with straw and rags, there were left many
through which the cold wind whistled.

And now her little hands were nearly frozen with cold. Alas! a single
match might do her good if she might only draw it from the bundle, rub
it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. So at last she drew
one out. Whischt! How it blazed and burned! It gave out a warm, bright
flame like a little candle, as she held her hands over it. A wonderful
little light it was. It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat
before a great iron stove, with polished brass feet and brass shovel
and tongs. So blessedly it burned that the little maiden stretched out
her feet to warm them also. How comfortable she was! But lo! the flame
went out, the stove vanished, and nothing remained but the little
burned match in her hand.

She rubbed another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and
where the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a veil,
so that she could see through it into the room. A snow-white cloth was
spread upon the table, on which was a beautiful china dinner service,
while a roast goose, stuffed with apples and prunes, steamed famously,
and sent forth a most savory smell. And what was more delightful
still, and wonderful, the goose jumped from the dish, with knife and
fork still in its breast, and waddled along the floor straight to the
little girl.

But the match went out then, and nothing was left to her but the
thick, damp wall.

She lighted another match. And now she was under a most beautiful
Christmas tree, larger and far more prettily trimmed than the one she
had seen through the glass doors at the rich merchant's. Hundreds of
wax tapers were burning on the green branches, and gay figures, such
as she had seen in the shop windows, looked down upon her. The child
stretched out her hands to them; then the match went out.

Still the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw
the