Snow White – A Bedtime Story for Children

Once upon a time, long, long ago, a queen sat at her window, sewing. Outside, soft snow was falling, and the whole world was perfectly still. The queen wished with all her heart for a child — as white as snow, as gentle as the morning. And before long, a little girl came into the world. The queen named her Sneewittchen, which means something like Little Snow-White. The child had dark hair, rosy cheeks, and the kindest eyes for miles around. Everyone who saw Sneewittchen had to smile — because there was something in her gaze that warmed you like a lantern shining in the night.

Sneewittchen grew, and with every passing day she grew kinder and more joyful. But at the royal court there hung a great mirror — a very special mirror, one that always told the truth. The new queen who had come to live in the castle asked the mirror every single morning: who is the kindest in all the land? For a long time the mirror answered: you are. But one day the mirror said: Sneewittchen, with her good heart, is kinder still. The queen frowned. She did not enjoy hearing someone else praised. Sadly, her heart had grown a little jealous.

The queen decided to send Sneewittchen far away — deep into the forest, so that the girl might find a new life there. A huntsman led Sneewittchen to the edge of the wood. But when he looked down at the child, he could not bring himself to cause her any sorrow. He said gently: run, Sneewittchen. This forest is good and safe. I shall tell the queen that you are well. Sneewittchen nodded bravely, even though her little heart was beating fast. She stepped in between the trees — and there it was: Silbenwald. Warm lanterns hung from every branch, fireflies danced through the soft mist, and the trees rustled like a quiet embrace.

Sneewittchen wandered through Silbenwald, marvelling at all the tiny lights. After a while she discovered a little cottage nestled between the roots of a great tree. Everything about it was small and neat: seven little chairs stood at the table, seven little plates, seven little spoons. Sneewittchen was very tired from her long journey. She lay down on the little beds — first the first, then the second, then the third — and at last she curled up on the seventh bed, which was just right. Her eyes grew heavy, and Sneewittchen fell fast asleep while the fireflies glimmered outside.

When evening came, the seven dwarves arrived home — seven little men in round hats with cheerful faces, who had spent the whole day searching the mountains for stones. They carried their lanterns, and the fireflies came dancing along with them. When the dwarves opened the door, they saw that someone had been sleeping in their cottage. They crept oh so quietly to the bed and gazed at the sleeping girl. What a peaceful and friendly face! All seven dwarves whispered at the very same moment: oh! They did not want to wake Sneewittchen, and so they waited patiently until morning came.

In the morning Sneewittchen told the seven dwarves everything. The dwarves listened carefully, nodding their round hats. Then they said: Sneewittchen, you may stay with us for as long as you like. You cook, we work — and together we shall be very well indeed. Sneewittchen was so glad that her eyes shone. From that day on she lived in Silbenwald with the seven dwarves. She made warm porridge, sang soft songs, and every evening they all sat together at the table while the lanterns swayed and the fireflies danced past the windows. It was a quiet and happy life.

But the mirror at the royal court told the jealous queen that Sneewittchen was still alive and happy. The queen disguised herself as an old peddler woman and set off on the long journey to Silbenwald. She knocked at the door of the little cottage and offered Sneewittchen a beautiful comb. Sneewittchen put the comb in her hair — but the comb was enchanted, and it sent her sinking down into a deep, deep sleep. It was not a dangerous sleep, only a very, very long one. Sneewittchen lay as though caught in a calm dream, her cheeks rosy, her hands warm.

When the seven dwarves came home, they found Sneewittchen sleeping. They carefully lifted the comb from her hair — and Sneewittchen woke and smiled. The dwarves sighed with relief and said: Sneewittchen, please do not let anyone in whilst we are away. Sneewittchen promised. But the queen — still not satisfied — tried once more. This time she brought a red apple, half wholesome and half enchanted. When Sneewittchen took a bite, the girl sank once again into the deep magic sleep. This time the dwarves could find no way to wake her. Lovingly and with great sadness, they made her a bed of soft moss beneath a glass canopy.

One day a young prince rode through Silbenwald. The warm lanterns drew him deeper and deeper between the trees, until he discovered Sneewittchen beneath her glass canopy. He stopped and looked for a long time. The seven dwarves came over and told the prince everything. The prince had a good heart, and he asked the dwarves: may I take Sneewittchen to my palace, so that my healers might help her? The dwarves thought long and hard, and at last they nodded. As the bearers lifted the glass canopy, the enchanted piece of apple came free — and Sneewittchen opened her eyes. She blinked, saw the fireflies all around her, and smiled.

Sneewittchen and the prince became the dearest of friends, and before long they held a great celebration. The seven dwarves came too, of course — in their round hats, with their little lanterns swinging. All through Silbenwald every firefly lit up at once, as though they wanted to celebrate as well. Sneewittchen danced with the dwarves, laughed with the prince, and thought of all the goodness she had met along the way: the brave huntsman, the kind dwarves, the warm and welcoming wood. And if tonight you are very still and you look out of your window, you might just see a tiny light glowing out there in the dark — that could be a firefly from Silbenwald, whispering goodnight to you.