“I am looking for strawberries,” said she.
“We are in the midst of winter,” replied Setchène; “strawberries do not grow in the snow.”
“I know,” said the girl sadly, “but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries; if I do not they will kill me. Pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them.”
The great Setchène arose, crossed over to the month opposite him, and putting the wand into his hand, said:
“Brother Tchervène (June), do thou take the highest place.”
Tchervène obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leapt towards the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries. Before Marouckla had time to cross herself they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood.
“Gather them quickly, Marouckla,” said Tchervène.
Joyfully she thanked the months, and having filled her apron ran happily home. Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance.
“Wherever did you find them?” asked Helen crossly.
“Right up among the mountains; those from under the beech trees are not bad.”