“Humph!” growled the old man, “a pretty person you are to take my place! Well, good-day, Madam Sleepyhead, and good luck to you!”
And off he stumped over the dead leaves, which crackled and rustled beneath his feet.
As soon as he was gone, the young lady in green opened her eyes in good earnest and looked about her.
“Madam Sleepyhead, indeed!” she re-echoed, indignantly. “I am sure that is not my name, anyhow. The question is, What is it?”
She looked about her again, but nothing was to be seen save the bare branches of the trees, and the dead, brown leaves and dry moss underfoot.
“Trees, do you happen to know what my name is?” she asked.
The trees shook their heads. “No, ma’am,” they said, “we do not know; but perhaps when the Wind comes, he will be able to give you some information.”
The girl shivered a little, and drew her green mantle about her and waited.
By and by the Wind came blustering along. He caught the trees by their branches, and shook them in rough, though friendly greeting.
“Well, boys!” he shouted, “Old Winter is gone, is he? I wish you joy of his departure! But where is the lady who was coming to take his place?”