Winter bent forward and stared hard at the loveliest rose of them all. Then the dew-drop that hung under the flower froze into an icicle. The bird that sat in its branches and sang fell stiff and frozen to the ground; and the rose itself withered and died.
“Well?” said Winter.
But Summer stood up and looked with his gentle eyes at Winter’s mountain, at the place where the snow lay deepest. And, on the spot at which he looked, the snow melted and from out the ground sprang the largest and loveliest Christmas rose that any one could hope to set eyes upon.
In this wise, the two princes could make no way against each other.
The day wore on; evening came and night. The moon shone upon the splendid snow-clad mountain, which gleamed and glittered like diamonds. Across from Summer’s mountain sounded the nightingale’s song; and the scent of the roses filled all the fair space around.
The next morning, just as the sun was rising, two other princes came walking towards the place where Winter and Summer sat glaring at each other.
One of them came from the East, the other from the West. They were shorter in stature than Winter and Summer and not so strong nor yet so awful to look at. But they were big enough even then; and there was no mistaking that they were high lords and mighty men. For they walked the earth freely and proudly and looked around them as though they feared no one and nothing.
The one who came from the East was the younger, a mere stripling without a hair on his chin. His face was soft and round, his mouth was ever smiling and his eyes dreamy and moist. His long hair was bound with a ribbon, like a woman’s. He was clad in green from top to toe. The ribbon round his hair was green, as were the bows to his shoes; and a lute was slung across his shoulder by a broad green ribbon of silk. The newcomer walked as gaily and lightly as though his feet did not touch the ground and, all the time, as he walked, he hummed a tune and plucked at the strings of his lute.
The one who came from the West was much older. His hair and beard were dashed with grey; and there were wrinkles on his forehead. But he was good to look at and he was arrayed in the most splendid attire of them all. His cloak gleamed red and brown and green and yellow; and, as he marched towards the sun, he spread it so that it shone in all its colours. He himself gazed contentedly right into the sun’s radiance, as if he could never have enough of it. In his hand he carried a mighty horn.