“This is no place for you, my child,” Great January said. “Why are you here?”
“I’m hunting for violets,” Marushka answered.
“Violets? This is no time to look for violets with snow on the ground!”
“I know that, sir, but my sister, Holena, says I must bring her violets from the forest or she’ll kill me and my mother says so, too. Please, sir, won’t you tell me where I can find some?”
Great January slowly stood up and walked over to the youngest Month. He handed him a long staff and said:
“Here, March, you take the high seat.”
So March took the high seat and began waving the staff over the fire. The fire blazed up and instantly the snow all about began to melt. The trees burst into bud; the grass revived; the little pink buds of the daisies appeared; and, lo, it was spring!
While Marushka looked, violets began to peep out from among the leaves and soon it was as if a great blue quilt had been spread on the ground.
“Now, Marushka,” March cried, “there are your violets! Pick them quickly!”
Marushka was overjoyed. She stooped down and
