"Why doesn't the oak come along?" asked the boy.
"It's afraid of the Ice Witch," said a fair young birch that tripped
along so boldly and cheerfully that it was a joy to watch it. The crowd
hurried on as before. In a short time they were in Norrland, and now it
mattered not how much the Sun cried and coaxed--the apple tree stopped,
the cherry tree stopped, the rye blade stopped!
The boy turned to them and asked:
"Why don't you come along? Why do you desert the Sun?"
"We dare not! We're afraid of the Ice Witch, who lives in Lapland," they
answered.
The boy comprehended that they were far north, as the procession grew
thinner and thinner. The rye blade, the barley, the wild strawberry, the
blueberry bush, the pea stalk, the currant bush had come along as far as
this. The elk and the domestic cow had been walking side by side, but
now they stopped. The Sun no doubt would have been almost deserted if
new followers had not happened along. Osier bushes and a lot of brushy
vegetation joined the procession. Laps and reindeer, mountain owl and
mountain fox and willow grouse followed.
Then the boy heard something coming toward them. He saw great rivers and
creeks sweeping along with terrible force.
"Why are they in such a hurry?" he asked.
"They are running away from the Ice Witch, who lives up in the
mountains.
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