There the girls sat, and kept laughing and saying:
“Whatever is mother thinking of? All of a sudden to marry both of us off! As if there were no lads in our village, forsooth! Some rubbishy fellow may come, and goodness knows who he may be!”
The girls were wrapped up in pelisses, but for all that they felt the cold.
“I say, Praskóvya! The Frost’s skinning me alive. Well, if our bridegroom doesn’t come quick, we shall be frozen to death here!”
“Don’t go talking nonsense, Máshka; as if suitors turned up in the forenoon! Why, it’s hardly dinner-time yet!”
“But I say, Praskóvya! If only one comes, which of us will he take?”
“Not you, you stupid goose!”
“Then it will be you, I suppose!”
“Of course, it will be me!”
“You, indeed! There now, have done talking stuff and treating people like fools!”