“I’m not crying,” said Friedel bravely, but he was as sad at heart as a horse who has won a race and waits in vain for his rider to pat his neck. “I shall stay no longer in the city, and I shall have nothing more to do with these people. I know very well what I must do. Tell me, Master Greyhead, have you already seen the Christ-child this evening?” “To be sure. I see him every year. Today he came riding in from the door of the East and he will go out again at the West door. If you wish to speak with him we must hurry and reach the bench by the spring where he will surely pass.” And now the three went together out of the city. There was no one to be seen and Friedel’s wooden shoes made klapp, klapp on the hard frozen road. He pulled his fur cap down over his ears, because he was so cold, and thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. “Shall I lend you my handkerchief, Master Greyhead?” he asked. “Out of it you can make some stockings for your bare legs.” But the sparrow laughed. “Never mind; even in winter my feet are quite comfortable. Now look about you—this is the place. Sit down on the bench and rest, but take care not to go to sleep. Meanwhile I’ll watch and tell you when the Christ-child comes.” The little fellow sat down, and the sky grew darker and darker. The stars put out their lights and the moon disappeared. Then it seemed to Friedel that the world grew stiller, and he himself grew wearier, and soon there came fluttering down through the air, very softly, thousands and thousands of butterflies. They settled on the bare branches of the trees, and when there was no more room there they sank down on the road and the ground, covering the whole earth. “They have woven a white cloth,” said the sparrow; “that is really too bad. But what can one do? The Christ-child has given away his horse and stockings and shoes and must not walk on the bare ground. See, there he comes.” Great heavens, Friedel had fallen asleep. But he had to open his eyes again. He saw a shimmering light coming nearer and nearer. Then Friedel stood up and walking was so easy for him, so wonderfully easy, that he moved toward the light. At last came an angel’s child with long hair and a blue robe, with nothing in his hands, who went with bare feet and stepped so lightly that not a trace of him remained in the snow. All the light which Friedel had seen came from his two eyes, and about his mouth played a smile as though the Mother Maria had just kissed his lips. “Are you the Christ-child?” asked Friedel. “Yes,” answered he, and looked so long at Friedel that a strange warmth ran through the boy’s whole body. Then the little fellow took heart and asked fervently: “Dear Christ-child, people will have nothing to do with me and no one sees my need. Buy my little horse Huppdiwupp. I have carved him with my own hand. You cannot go back to heaven on foot. You can pay me what you will.” “Oh,” said the Christ-child. “I have no money.”