s called white because it was always white even in
midsummer. The trees and bushes, and all the undergrowth, every flower
and blade of grass, were white with snow and frost all the year round,
and all the learned men of the country had studied into the reason
of it, and had come to the conclusion that the Woods lay in a direct
draught from the North Pole and that produced the phenomenon.
Nobody had penetrated very far into the White Woods, although many
expeditions had been organized for that purpose. The cold was so
terrible that it drove them back.

The children had heard all about the terrors of the White Woods. When
they drew near it they took hold of one another's hands and snuggled
as closely together as possible.

When they struck into the path at the entrance the intense cold turned
their cheeks and noses blue in a moment, but they kept on, calling
"Biddy, Biddy, Biddy!" in their shrill sweet trebles. Every twig on
the trees was glittering white with hoar-frost, and all the dead
blackberry-vines wore white wreaths, the bushes brushed the ground,
they were so heavy with ice, and the air was full of fine white
sparkles. The children's eyes were dazzled, but they kept on,
stumbling through the icy vines and bushes, and calling "_Biddy,
Biddy, Biddy_!"

It was quite late in the afternoon when they started, and pretty soon
the sun went down and the moon arose, and that made it seem colder. It
was like traveling through a forest of solid silver then, and every
once in a while a little frozen clump of flowers would shine so that
they would think it was the silver hen and dart forward, to find it
was not.

About two hours after the moon arose, as they were creeping along,
calling "Biddy, Biddy, Biddy!" more and more faintly, a singular,
hoarse voice replied suddenly. "We don't keep any hens," said the
voice, and all the children jumped and screamed, and looked about for
the owner of it. He loomed up among some bushes at their right. He was
so dazzling white himself, and had such an indistinctness of outline,
that they had taken him for an oak-tree. But it was the real Snow Man.
They knew him in a moment, he looked so much like his effigies that
they used to make in their yards.

"We don't keep any hens," repeated the Snow Man. "What are you calling
hens for in this forest?"

The children huddled together as close as they could, and the oldest
boy explained. When he broke down the oldest girl piped up and helped