Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid
of the strange old woman.

"But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," said she.

And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said,
"A-hem! a-hem!" and when Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if
she had not seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed
there, but he no doubt would come; and she told her not to be cast down,
but taste her cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer than
any in a picture-book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then
took Gerda by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the
door.

The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and
the sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On
the table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as
she chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the
old woman combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled and
shone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little face, which
was so round and so like a rose.

"I have often longed for such a dear little girl," said the old woman.
"Now you shall see how well we agree together"; and while she combed
little Gerda's hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and
more, for the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil being, she
only practised witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and
now she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. She therefore went out
in the garden, stretched out her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes,
which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth and no
one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerda
should see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember
little Kay, and run away from her.

She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what
loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every
season, stood there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or
more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind
the tall cherry-tree; she then had a pretty bed, with a red silken
coverlet filled with blue violets. She fell asleep, and had as pleasant
dreams as ever a queen on her wedding-day.

The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine,
and thus passed away a day. Gerda knew ever