But where the mist was thickest there was Spring. And the thicker the mist grew the brighter shone Spring’s green garb. And, all the time that the water oozed and the dew-drops dripped and the river flowed, Spring sang:
Softly slipping,
Little drop, go dripping, dripping!
But up in the mountains lay the Prince of Winter and lurked. He saw how the snow melted and disappeared; he saw the flowers come and could do nothing to prevent it. The snow melted right up in the mountains; and he felt that it would become a bad business indeed if he did not put a stop to it.
So he stole down to the valley in the darkness of the night; and, next morning, there was ice on the puddles and the mist lay beaten down upon the meadow in sparkling hoar-frost.
But, when the young Prince of Spring saw this, he only laughed:
“That’s no use,” he said.
Then he raised his young face to the sky and called:
“Sun! Sun!”
And the sun appeared.