"Hello, Verotchka," answered the Little Fir-Tree beneath her.
This was a real Christmas tree. Verotchka knew her at once. That dear Christmas tree! Verotchka bent down to tell her how lovely she was and all of a sudden she felt herself going down, down, down.
It was frightful. She turned somersaults in the air several times, and then fell right into the soft white snow. Verotchka closed her eyes with fear and didn't know whether she was dead or alive.
"How did you get here, Little One?" asked somebody.
Verotchka opened her eyes and saw a bent, old man, all gray. She knew him at once. It was the same old man who brought Christmas trees and golden stars, boxes of candy and wonderful toys, to the good children. He was so kind, this old man; he picked her up in his arms and covered her with his fur coat, asking her again:
"How did you come here, Little Girl?"
"I travelled on Lady Bug's back, and I saw so much, Grandfather!"
"So, so."
"I know you, Grandfather. You bring Christmas trees to children."
"Yes, yes. I'm fixing one now." And he pointed to a tall pole that didn't look like a Christmas tree at all.