am looking for violets,” answered Maruša.
“This is no time to be looking for violets, for everything is covered with snow,” answered Great January.
“Yes, I know; but my sister Holena and my stepmother said that I must bring them some violets from the forest. If I don’t bring them, they’ll kill me. Tell me, fathers, please tell me where I can find them.”
Great January stood up and went to one of the younger months – it was March – and, giving him the club, he said: “Brother, take the high seat.”
March took the high seat upon the stone and waved the club over the fire. The fire blazed up, the snow began to melt, the trees began to bud, and the ground under the young beech-trees was at once covered with grass and the crimson daisy buds began to peep through the grass. It was springtime. Under the bushes the violets were blooming among their little leaves, and before Maruša had time to think, so many of them had sprung up that they looked like a blue cloth spread out on the ground.
“Pick them quickly, Maruša!” commanded March.
Maruša picked them joyfully till she had a big bunch. Then she thanked the months with all her heart and scampered merrily home.
Holena and the stepmother wondered when they saw Maruša bringing the violets. They opened the door to her, and the scent of violets filled all the cottage.
“Where did you get them?” asked Holena sulkily.
“They are growing under the bushes in a forest on the high mountains.”
Holena put them in her waistband. She let her mother smell them, but she did not say to her sister: “Smell them.”
Another day she was lolling near the stove, and now she longed for some strawberries. So she called to her sister and said: “Go, Maruša, and get me some strawberries from the forest.”
“Alas! dear sister, where could I find any strawberries? Who ever heard of strawberries growing under the snow?” said Maruša.
“You wretched little tatterdemalion, how dare you argue when I tell you to do a thing? Go at once and get me the strawberries, or I’ll kill you!”
The stepmother caught hold of Maruša and pushed her out of the door and shut it after her. Maruša went to the forest weeping bitterly. The snow was lying deep, and there wasn’t a human footprint to be seen anywhere. She wandered about for a long time, tortured by hunger and trembling with cold. At last she saw the light she had seen the other day. Overjoyed, she went towards it. She came to the great fire with the twelve months sitting round it.
“Please, kind sirs, let me warm my hands at the fire. I am trembling with cold.”
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.”
Holena took the strawberries, and went on eating them till she could eat no more. So did the stepmother too, but they didn’t say to Maruša: “Here is one for you.”
When Holena had enjoyed the strawberries, she grew greedy for other dainties, and so on the third day she longed for some red apples.
“Maruša, go into the forest and get me some red apples,” she said to her sister.
“Alas! sister dear, how am I to get apples for you in winter?” protested Maruša.
“You wretched little tatterdemalion, how dare you argue when I tell you to do a thing? Go to the forest at once, and if you don’t bring me the apples I will kill you!” threatened Holena.
The stepmother caught hold of Maruša and pushed her out of the door and shut it after her. Maruša went to the forest weeping bitterly. The snow was lying deep; there wasn’t a human footprint to be seen anywhere. But she didn’t wander about this time. She ran straight to the top of the mountain where the big fire was burning. The twelve months were sitting round the fire; yes, there they certainly were, and Great January was sitting on the high seat.
“Please, kind sirs, let me warm my hands at the fire. I am trembling with cold.”
Great January nodded, and asked her: “Why have you come here, and what are you looking for?”
“I am looking for red apples.”
“It is winter now, and red apples don’t grow in winter,” answered January.
“Yes, I know,” said Maruša sadly; “but my sister and my stepmother, too, bade me bring them some red apples from the forest. If I don’t bring them, they will kill me. Tell me, father, tell me, please, where I could find them.”
Great January rose up. He went over to one of the older months – it was September. He handed the club to him and said: “Brother, take the high seat.”
Month September took the high seat upon the stone and swung the club over the fire. The fire began to burn with a red flame, the snow began to melt. But the trees were not covered with leaves; the leaves were wavering down one after the other, and the cold wind was driving them to and fro over the yellowing ground. This time Maruša did not see so many flowers. Only red pinks were blooming on the hillside, and meadow saffrons were flowering in the valley. High fern and thick ivy were growing under the young beech-trees. But Maruša was only looking for red apples, and at last she saw an apple-tree with red apples hanging high among its branches.
“Shake the tree at once, Maruša!” commanded the month.
Right gladly Maruša shook the tree, and one apple fell down. She shook it a second time, and another apple fell down.
“Now, Maruša, run
