The King was very kind but very grave.
"I understand it now," he said. "The Summer Fairy told you true. Our northern Winter Spirit is indeed stern; we must submit. If we are patient and resigned it is possible that in the future even his cold heart may be melted by the sight of our suffering."
"It is only I who deserve it," wept the poor Queen. "The worst part of it all is to know that I have brought this sorrow upon you, my dear husband."
And so repentant she was that she almost forgot to think of herself. Never had she been so sweet and loving a wife. She did everything she possibly could to please and cheer the King, concealing from him the many bitter tears she shed as she sat for hours together beside the sleeping child.
The winter was terribly severe—never had the snow lain so thickly, never had the wind-blasts raged and howled more furiously. Often did the Queen think to herself that the spirit must be infuriated at her very presence, in his special domain.
"They might pity me now—now that I am so punished." She bore all the winter cold and terrors uncomplainingly, nay, even cheerfully, nerving herself to go out alone in the bitterest weather with a sort of hope of pleasing the Winter Fairy; possibly, if she could but see him, of making an appeal to him. But for many months he held his icy sway. Often indeed it seemed as if gentler times were never to return.
Then suddenly one night the frost went; a mild, soft breeze replaced the fierce blast; spring had come. And wonderful to relate, the very next morning the Queen was roused by loud knocking and voices at her door; trembling, she knew not why, she opened it, and the head nurse fell at her feet laughing and crying at once. The Princess had awakened.
Yes; there she was, chattering in her baby way, smiling and rosy as if nothing had been the matter. Oh, the joy of her parents and the jubilation all through the palace!
And all through the summer little Rose was wide awake in the daytime just like other children. She was as well and strong and happy as a baby could be. But—the summer will not last for ever; again returned the autumn, bringing with it the signs of the approaching winter and one morning when her nurse went to awaken the Princess, she found it was no use—Rose was sleeping again, with a smile on her face, calm and content, but alas! not to be awakened! And then it was remembered that the first snow had fallen in the night.
Gradually the child's distressed parents resigned themselves to the sad truth: their daughter was to be theirs only for half her life; for full six months out of every twelve, she was to be in a sense as far away from them as if the Winter Monarch had carried her off to his palace of ice altogether.