Charlotte E. English

She was prickly, too, like the tips of holly leaves.

faintly; ‘Hoy,’ she

They called her Summerthorn, for though the frost curled her toes in her boots the colour of violets, and the snow turned her pale as the moon, came the sun and she blossomed like a daffodil, and the roses came out in her cheeks.

They called her Summerthorn, for though the frost curled her toes in her boots the colour of violets, and the snow turned her pale as the moon, came the sun and she blossomed like a daffodil, and the roses came out in her cheeks.