“Tick! Tock!
Wind the Clock!
Tock! Tick!
Wind it quick!
“Tick—Tock——” and he stopped talking.
The astonished Queen meekly threw open the door, and Goran carried the Snowman into the snowy darkness. Brr-rr! It was bitter cold!
“Now bring some snow and build me up,” the Snowman ordered. “Leave the door open so that you can see—don’t dawdle!”
The firelight from the open door shone on his blue glass eyes, and made two angry red sparks gleam in them. Goran and the Queen, Gustava and Nanna, scooped up handfuls and hoof-fuls and wing-fuls of newly fallen snow, and patted it on to the Snowman until he stuck out his chest more proudly than he had done in the first place, and he was so fat that he looked as if he were wearing six white fur coats, one on top of another. And all the time when he wasn’t frightening the Queen half out of her wits by shouting: “Your turn next!” he kept muttering away to himself:
“Melt me over the fire! Smother me in a feather bed! Put a hot brick at my feet!”