Great January nodded, and asked her: “Why have you come again, and what are you looking for here?”
“I am looking for strawberries.”
“But it is winter now, and strawberries don’t grow on the snow,” said January.
“Yes, I know,” said Maruša sadly; “but my sister Holena and my stepmother bade me bring them some strawberries, and if I don’t bring them, they will kill me. Tell me, fathers, tell me, please, where I can find them.”
Great January arose. He went over to the month sitting opposite to him—it was June—and handed the club to him, saying: “Brother, take the high seat.”
June took the high seat upon the stone and swung the club over the fire. The fire shot up, and its heat melted the snow in a moment. The ground was all green, the trees were covered with leaves, the birds began to sing, and the forest was filled with all kinds of flowers. It was summer. The ground under the bushes was covered with white starlets, the starry blossoms were turning into strawberries every minute. They ripened at once, and before Maruša had time to think, there were so many of them that it looked as though blood had been sprinkled on the ground.
“Pick them at once, Maruša!” commanded June.
Maruša picked them joyfully till she had filled her apron full. Then she thanked the months with all her heart and scampered merrily home. Holena and the stepmother wondered when they saw Maruša bringing the strawberries. Her apron was full of them. They ran to open the door for her, and the scent of the strawberries filled the whole cottage.
“Where did you pick them?” asked Holena sulkily.
“There are plenty of them growing under the young beech-trees in the forest on the high mountains.”