It was an early Easter. They had just quit using sleighs. In the yards lay snow, and rills ran down the village. A large puddle had run down from a manure pile into a lane between two farms. And at this puddle two girls, one older than the other, had met. Both of them had been dressed by their mothers in new bodices. The little girl had a blue bodice, and the elder a yellow one with a design. Both had their heads wrapped in red kerchiefs. After mass the two girls went to the puddle, where they showed their new garments to each other, and began to play. They wanted to plash in the water. The little girl started to go into the puddle with her shoes on, but the older girl said to her: "Don't go, Malásha, your mother will scold you. I will take off my shoes, and you do the same." The girls took off their shoes, raised their skirts, and walked through the puddle toward each other. Malásha stepped in up to her ankles, and said: "It is deep, Akúlka, I am afraid." "Never mind," she replied, "it will not be any deeper. Come straight toward me!" They came closer to each other. Akúlka said: "Malásha, look out, and do not splash it up, but walk softly." She had barely said that when Malásha plumped her foot into the water and bespattered Akúlka's bodice, and not only her bodice, but also her nose and eyes. When Akúlka saw the spots on her bodice, she grew angry at Malásha, and scolded her, and ran after her, and wanted to strike her. Malásha was frightened and, seeing what trouble she had caused, jumped out of the puddle and ran home. Akúlka's mother passed by; she saw her daughter's bodice bespattered and her shirt soiled. "Where, accursed one, did you get yourself so dirty?" "Malásha has purposely splashed it on me." Akúlka's mother grasped Malásha and gave her a knock on the nape of her neck. Malásha began to howl, and her mother ran out of the house. "Why do you strike my daughter?" she began to scold her neighbour. One word brought back another, and the women began to quarrel. The men, too, ran out, and a big crowd gathered in the street. All were crying, and nobody could hear his neighbour. They scolded and cursed each other; one man gave another man a push, and a fight had begun, when Akúlka's grandmother came out. She stepped in the midst of the peasants, and began to talk to them: "What are you doing, dear ones? Consider the holiday. This is a time for rejoicing. And see what sin you are doing!"