MatchSeller
It was New Year's Eve and the snowed streets were deserted.
From brightly lit windows came the tinkle of laughter and the sound of singing.
People were getting ready to bring in the New Year.
But the poor little match seller sat sadly beside the fountain.
Her ragged dress and worn shawl did not keep out the cold
and she tried to keep her bare feet from touching the frozen ground.
She hadn't sold one box of matches all day
and she was frightened to go home, for her father would certainly be angry.
It wouldn't be much warmer anyway, in the ventilated attic that was her home.
The little girl's fingers were stiff with cold. If only she could light a match!
But what would her father say at such a waste!
Falteringly she took out a match and lit it. What a nice warm flame!
The little match seller cupped her hand over it,
and as she did so, she magically saw in its light a big brightly burning stove.