And Gerda dreamed of Kay. She saw him sitting in his little sledge, and it was dragged by angels. But it was only a dream, and, when she awoke, her little playmate was as far away as ever.
The ravens were now very happy, for the princess said that, although they must never again lead any one to the palace by the back staircase, this time they should be rewarded. They should for the rest of their lives live together in the palace garden, and be known as the court ravens, and be fed from the royal kitchen.
When little Gerda awoke from her dreams, she saw the sunbeams stealing across her bed. It was time to get up.
The court ladies dressed the little girl in silk and velvet, and the prince and princess asked her to stay with them at the palace. But Gerda begged for a little carriage, and a horse, and a pair of boots, that she might again go out into the great wide world to seek little Kay.
So they gave her a pair of boots and a muff, and when she was dressed, there before the door stood a carriage of pure gold. The prince himself helped Gerda to step in, and the princess waved to her as she drove off.
But although Gerda was now a grand little girl, she was very lonely. The coachman and footman in the scarlet and gold livery did not speak a word. She was glad when the field raven flew to the carriage and perched by her side. He explained that his wife, for he was now married, would have come also, but she had eaten too much breakfast and was not well. But at the end of three miles the raven said good-by, and flapping his shiny black wings, flew into an elm. There he watched the golden carriage till it could no longer be seen.
Poor Gerda was lonely as ever! There were gingernuts and sugar-biscuits and fruit in the carriage, but these could not comfort the little girl.
When would she find Kay?
In a dark forest lived a band of wild robbers. Among them was an old robber-woman, with shaggy eyebrows and no teeth. She had one little daughter.