And “Snip, snap, snorum!” said the robber-maiden; and she took the hands of each, and promised that if she should some day pass through the town where they lived, she would come and visit them; and then away she rode. Kay and Gerda took each other’s hand: it was lovely spring weather, with abundance of flowers and of verdure. The church-bells rang, and the children recognized the high towers, and the large town; it was that in which they dwelt. They entered, and hastened up to their grandmother’s room, where everything was standing as formerly. The clock said, “Tick! tock!” and the finger moved round; but as they entered, they remarked that they were now grown up. The roses on the roof hung blooming in at the open window; there stood the little children’s chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat down on them, holding each other by the hand; they both had forgotten the cold, empty splendour of the Snow-Queen, as though it had been a dream. The grandmother sat in the bright sunshine, and read aloud from the Bible: “Unless ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.”
And Kay and Gerda looked in each other’s eyes, and all at once they understood the old hymn:—
“The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet,
The Christ-child is there the children to greet.”
There sat the two grown-up persons; grown up, and yet children; children at least in heart: and it was summer-time; summer, glorious summer!
A MERRY TALE OF THE KING AND
THE COBBLER
It was the custom of King Henry the Eighth to disguise himself and walk late in the night into the city of London, to observe how the constables, and watchmen performed their duty, not only in guarding the city gates, but also, in diligently watching the inner part of the city, to observe what went on in the streets. This he did oftimes returning home to Whitehall early in the morning without its being discovered who he was. Now, on returning home through the Strand he often took notice of a certain cobbler who was always up at work, whistling and singing every morning. So, resolving to see him, the king knocked off the heel of his shoe, by hitting it against a stone. Having so done he bounced against the stall.
“Who is there?” cried the cobbler opening his stall door. The king asked him if he could fit on his heel.
“Yes, that I can,” said the cobbler. “So sit thee down and I will do it for thee straightway.”
The cobbler laid aside his awls and old shoes to make room for the king to sit by him. The king was hardly able to keep from laughing at the cobbler’s manner. He then asked him, “Is there not a house near where I can get a cup of good ale, and the people up?”