"You are still cold," said the Snow Queen, and she kissed his forehead. Her lips were like ice, and Kay shivered and felt the old pain at his heart. But only for a minute, for the Snow Queen kissed him again, and then he forgot the pain, and he forgot Gerda, and he forgot his grandmother and his old home, and had not a thought for anything or any one but the Snow Queen. He had no fear of her now, no, not although they flew up and up on a dark cloud, away over woods and lakes, over rivers, islands, and seas. No, he was not afraid, although the cold wind whistled around them, and beneath the wild wolves howled. Kay did not care. Above them the moon shone bright and clear. All night long the boy would gaze at it and the twinkling stars, but by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. * * * But what of little Gerda? Poor child, she watched and she waited and she wondered, but Kay did not come, and nobody could tell her where he was. The boys had seen him drive out of the town gates behind a big sledge painted white. But no one had heard of him since. Little Gerda cried bitterly. Perhaps Kay was drowned in the river. Oh, what a long, cold winter that was! But spring came at last, bright spring with its golden sunshine and its singing birds. "Kay is dead," said Gerda. "Kay dead? It is not true," said the sunshine. "Kay dead? We do not believe it," twittered the swallows. And neither did little Gerda believe it. "I will put on my new red shoes," said the child one morning, "and go to the river and ask it about Kay." So she put on her little red shoes, and kissed her old grandmother who was still asleep, and wandered alone, out beyond the town gates, and down to the river-bank. "Have you taken my little playfellow?" she asked. "I will give you these if you will bring him back to me," and she flung her little shoes into the river. They fell close to the bank and the little waves tossed them back on to the dry pebbles at her feet. "We do not want you, we will keep Kay," they seemed to say. "Perhaps I did not throw them far enough," thought Gerda; and, stepping into a boat that lay among the rushes, she flung the red shoes with all her might into the middle of the river. But the boat was not fastened and it glided out from among the rushes. Soon it was drifting faster and faster down the river. The little shoes floated behind. "Perhaps I am going to little Kay," thought Gerda, as she was carried farther and farther down the river. How pretty it was! Trees waved and flowers nodded on its banks. Sheep grazed and cattle browsed, but not one soul, big or little, was to be seen. After a long time Gerda came to a cherry-garden which stretched down to the river-bank. At the end of this garden stood a tiny cottage with a thatched roof, and with red, blue, and yellow glass windows. On either side of the door stood a wooden soldier. Gerda thought the soldiers were alive, and shouted to them.