Father Frost

Somewhere in Russia, in a faraway corner of the country, a woman lived with her husband, his daughter and her own daughter. Her own girl could do no wrong. Whatever she did, her mother was first to praise and pet her. The stepdaughter was good and kind, yet all she ever got was blame. The unfair treatment continued day after day.

One bright, freezing day the stepmother told her husband, “Old man, I want your daughter gone from my sight and out of my hearing. Don’t take her to your relatives’ warm hut. Take her out to the wide open fields, into the crackling frost.”

The father’s heart sank and he even cried, but he helped the girl into the sleigh all the same. He wanted to wrap a sheepskin round her against the cold, yet he did not dare, because his wife was watching from the window. He drove his lovely daughter far across the fields almost to the edge of the woods, left her there by herself, and hurried away. He could not bear to watch what his own decision had put her through.

Alone in the snow, frightened and heartbroken, the girl said every prayer she knew.

Then Father Frost, the ruler of that wild place, came closer and closer. He was wrapped in furs, with a long white beard and a shining crown on his white head. He looked at his lovely visitor and asked, “Do you know who I am? I am red-nosed Frost.” “You are welcome, Father Frost,” the girl answered gently. “Perhaps heaven has sent you to take me.”

“Are you comfortable, my dear?” asked Frost. He liked her face and her mild manner very much. “Yes, I am,” she said, though the cold had almost stolen her breath.

Frost, bright and cheerful, went on crackling in the branches until the very air turned to ice, and still the kind girl kept saying, “I’m very comfortable, dear Father Frost.”

Old Frost understood people well. He knew that no person could withstand his cold for long. This gentle girl charmed him so much that he decided to treat her differently from everyone else. He gave her a big, heavy trunk packed with lovely things: a rich fur-lined cloak called a schouba, silk quilts as light as feathers and as warm as a mother’s lap, and many more splendid clothes. Last of all he gave her a blue sarafan decorated with silver and pearls. When she put it on she looked so beautiful that even the sun smiled at her.

At home the stepmother was in the kitchen baking pancakes for the meal that is served to the priest and friends after a funeral. “Now, old man,” she said, “go out to the fields and bring back your daughter’s body so we can bury her.” Off he went.

The little dog in the corner wagged its tail and barked, “Woof, woof! The old man’s daughter is coming home lovelier and happier than ever, and the old woman’s daughter is as nasty as ever.”

“Be quiet, you stupid animal!” shouted the stepmother, and smacked the dog. “Here, eat this pancake and say, ‘The old woman’s daughter will soon be married, and the old man’s daughter will soon be buried.'” The dog ate the pancake and started again: “Woof, woof! The old man’s daughter is coming home rich and happy, and the old woman’s daughter is moping about as unhappy as ever.” The stepmother was furious, but neither pancakes nor smacks could make the dog change a single word.

Then the gate creaked open and laughing voices came from outside. The stepmother looked out and sat down in astonishment. There stood her stepdaughter, radiant and happy in the most beautiful clothes, like a princess, while behind her the old father could barely manage to carry the enormous trunk full of riches.

“Old man!” the stepmother cried impatiently. “Harness our best horses to our best sleigh and take my daughter to the very same place in the fields.” As always, he obeyed. He drove her own daughter to the same spot and left her alone.

Old Frost was there and looked over his new guest. “Are you comfortable, pretty maiden?” asked the red-nosed king. “Leave me alone,” the girl snapped. “Can’t you see my hands and feet are nearly frozen stiff?” Frost went on crackling and asking his question for a good while, but he never got a polite reply. At last he lost his temper and froze her to death.

“Old man, go and fetch my daughter,” said the stepmother. “Take the best horses, and be careful. Don’t tip the sleigh over and don’t lose the trunk.” The little dog in the corner barked, “Woof, woof! The old man’s daughter will soon be married, and the old woman’s daughter will soon be buried.” “Don’t you lie! Here’s a cake. Eat it and say, ‘The old woman’s daughter is dressed in silver and gold.'”

The gate swung open. The stepmother ran out and kissed her daughter’s frozen lips. She wept and wept, but nothing could be done, and at last she understood that her own spite and envy had cost her child’s life.

Where this tale comes from

“Father Frost” is the last of the nine tales in Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal’s Folk Tales from the Russian, illustrated by Lucy Fitch Perkins (Project Gutenberg #12851). Blumenthal’s foreword presents these tellings to American children and claims first publication for the material in her volume. That claim should not be read as proof that the underlying traditional tales had never appeared in print before. A note in the book dates it to 1903.

Blumenthal’s notes explain two Russian words in this tale: a schouba is a large fur-lined cloak, and a sarafan is described in her note as a Russian women’s garment. In her version Frost wears a crown and is called the “almighty sovereign” of the frozen fields. The second girl’s death is kept, because the tale turns on it, but it is told without detail.

Read the original: Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal, Folk Tales from the Russian (Project Gutenberg #12851)

Reading guidance: older readers. Includes a father abandoning two girls in freezing weather, animal abuse and a girl’s death. Saying that one is dangerously cold is not wrongdoing, and politeness does not protect a real person from exposure.

Reading the story closely

Frost asks about comfort while making the cold worse. The first girl’s polite answers help her within the story’s magical test, but the second girl’s complaint also describes a real need. The adults who send both girls away carry responsibility that a simple manners lesson misses. The father’s tears do not prevent him from repeating the abandonment.

Compare the two journeys in a chart: who orders them, who drives, what each girl says and what Frost chooses to do. Then read the dog’s repeated announcements. Why can neither food nor punishment make its account match the mother’s wishes?

Questions to ask

• Why do you think the girl keeps telling Frost she is comfortable?
• What does the little dog keep saying, and why won’t pancakes change its mind?
• The father obeys his wife every time. What could he have done differently?

You may also like

• Morozko — another translation of the same Russian frost tale
• The Snow Maiden (Snegurochka) — a winter tale where Frost is the snow girl’s father
• Baba Yaga — another Russian stepdaughter who wins through by being kind