So Peter went back to the carriage and reported to the Princess.
“I shall freeze out here,” said the Princess. “I will go up to the house and sit by the fire while you look for some one to help you with the carriage.”
She climbed out of the carriage, and with Peter in the lead, she plodded through the woods, and the wind blew her long coat this way and that, and at last, wet and panting, she came to the little house.
And once more Peter knocked, and once more Jenny came to the window. Then she flung the door wide open, and so tall was the Princess that she had to stoop to enter it. It was a dingy little room, and there was a dumpy black stove in the corner, with a bubbling iron pot that gave forth a most appetizing odor.
“Oh, oh, how nice and warm it is,” said the Princess, as she held out her hands to the fire.
In all their lives the little girls had never beheld such a wonderful person, for the Princess wore a long red coat and a black velvet hat with a waving plume, and her muff was big and round and soft, and she had a scarf of the same soft fur about her neck. Her hair was pale gold, and she had the bluest eyes and the reddest lips, and her smile was so sweet and tender, that Jenny ran right up to her and cried: “Oh, I am so glad you came!”
Jinny, from her little chair, echoed her sister’s words. But she did not run, for there was a tiny crutch beside Jinny’s chair in the square window.
“And I am glad to be here,” said the Princess, whose quick eyes were taking in the details of the shabby room. “It’s so nice and warm and cozy.”
“Isn’t it?” said Jenny, happily, “and we are getting ready for to-morrow.”
On a small round table beside Jinny’s chair was a tiny cedar bush, and Jinny’s fingers had been busy with bits of gold and blue and scarlet paper.