"What stupid little things!" said Beate; and she leaned far, far out over the edge of the well. Then her little hands slipped on the smooth log--splash! Down she fell into the water. It was so cold, so icy cold, and it closed over her head, and took the straw hat, which she had got on her birthday, off her hair! She hadn't time to hear whether Little Beate screamed, but I'm sure she did. When Beate's head came up over the water again she grasped the round log with both her hands, but the hands were too small, and the log too wide and slippery, she couldn't hold on. Then she saw her dear friend, Little Beate, standing stiff and dumb with fright, staring at her and with her right arm stretched out to her. Big Beate hurriedly caught hold of her and Little Beate made herself as stiff as she could, and stiffer still, and stood there between the logs holding her dear friend out of the water. Now Beate screamed so loudly that her father and mother heard her and came running as fast as they could, pale and frightened, and pulled her out. She was dripping wet, and so scared and cold that her teeth chattered. Now they put Beate to bed, and Little Beate had to sleep with her. When she had said her prayers she hugged her little friend and said: "Never, never can I thank you enough, because you saved me from that horrible deep well, dear Little Beate. You shall be my very best friend, always, and when I grow up you shall be the godmother to my first daughter, and I shall call her Little Beate for you." THE FLOATING ISLAND Beate was now a year older. During that year she had lost Little Beate, but she had never forgotten her. Big Beate had many dolls given to her, but not one was like Little Beate. No one was so sweet and good-natured, no one so pretty and graceful. It was a Saturday, and the next day, Sunday, she expected her friends, Marie and Louise, on a visit, for it was her birthday; therefore she wanted to decorate her doll-house as prettily as she could. Beate knew what to do. On the hillside by the Black Pond she remembered that she had seen the prettiest little snail shells anyone might wish for--round and fluted, with yellow and brown markings. They would be just the thing for her bureau. She ran off to search for them, slipping in and out through the hazel bushes, and picking empty shells by the dozen. But all of a sudden she heard a bird utter such a weird cry from the lake. She peeped out between the green branches and saw a big bird swimming about. It had a long blue neck and a white breast, but its back was shining black. It swam fast, and then suddenly dived and was gone.