"When we come to the big open space at the top of this hill, where all the booths are, you must keep very close to my side, for you might easily lose me." "I never saw so many little booths before," said Sigrid. "I like their white roofs, for they look like snow. Do they always have the Christmas market on this hilltop?" "Yes, for hundreds of years the peasants have been allowed to build their shelters here and sell their Christmas wares. In some places, for months, the whole family has been carving, knitting, weaving, and sewing all these things that we shall see as we walk along," replied Mrs. Lund. "I see a booth with lots of little gingerbread pigs and goats. May I buy one for Anders, over there?" asked Sigrid. "In a minute. But first I must get some of old Brita's knitted caps for some poor children I know." They halted in front of one of these booths, which have a few rough boards for a roof and a narrow counter. Here was an old peasant woman, so wrapped up in warm clothes that you could scarcely see her pleasant, wrinkled face. A black shawl was tied over her head, and a second dark woolen shawl was crossed over her breast and tied behind. Her petticoats were so heavily wadded that you wondered how she ever walked at all. "Doesn't she look funny, mother?" whispered Sigrid, who was clinging to her mother's hand. "Speak low, child," said Mrs. Lund. "I would not have you hurt the old creature's feelings. It is bitter cold standing here all day. She needs all her warm clothes. As long ago as when I was a child, she came here to sell these garments that she knits and crochets all summer. "I think that must be King Oscar's sleigh which has just come up the hill," said Sigrid as they turned away from Brita's booth. "Sure enough. He is making his annual visit to the Christmas market. Let us stand here and watch him for a minute." Just then the big Christmas crowd burst into a shout: "Long live King Oscar!" The white-haired old gentleman, who is so tall and stately that you would notice him anywhere, bowed graciously to his people. "Would he ask me what I wanted for Christmas, if I stood near him?" asked Sigrid. "No, he asks only the poor little children who don't look as though they would have a tree at home," replied Mrs. Lund. "Ah, he is talking to that ragged little fellow who watched us buy the accordion for Karl. By and by, his servant will buy a lot of things and give them to the children. He is a kind-hearted man as well as a good king." "Hear all those birds singing!" exclaimed the child. "Listen again and see if you cannot tell where they are," said Mrs. Lund. "Why, I believe they are cuckoo whistles, only I never heard so many all at once," cried Sigrid. "Suppose we go over and buy two or three," said Mrs. Lund. They threaded their way to the booth where these cheap little clay birds were so popular. The buxom maid was loaded with bundles long before Sigrid wanted to go home.