It was New Year’s Eve, cold, dark and snowy, and a little girl was walking along the street, barefoot.
She had brought one pair of shoes out from home, but they were too big for her: she lost one when two carriages swept past her, and a boy carried off the other, shouting that it would do for a cradle.
So she walked barefoot, and her feet were red with cold.
There were matches in her apron and a bundle in her hand, and all day she had not sold a single one.
She did not dare go home, because her father would have beaten her, and it was cold at home as well: there was hardly any furniture in the room, and on the roof only straw covered the great crack.
She sat down in the corner between two houses and drew herself together.
Her feet were numb, and she thought how good it would be to light a single match.
At last she drew one out of the bundle and struck it against the wall.
The flame was warm and bright, and the girl felt as though she were sitting in front of a great iron stove that shone like copper.
The warmth was good, and she stretched out her feet so that they might warm too.
Then the match went out, and the stove vanished; in her hand there was only a burnt stick.
She lit another, and the wall became transparent as a veil.
Inside stood a table, laid: a white cloth, china, and a roast goose that came towards her, with knife and fork in its back.
Then the match went out, and the girl saw only the thick, cold wall again.
She lit a third, and then a Christmas tree appeared, larger than any she had ever seen.
Candles burned on the green branches, and a star shone at the top of the tree.
The girl reached out her hand to take it, and the match went out.
Then the candles rose towards the sky, and the girl thought that one of the stars had just fallen, because her grandmother had said that a falling star is a soul departing.
“Grandmother,” said the girl, and lit the next match, because she wanted to see her.
Her grandmother stood before her, clear and kind, and the girl knew that when the match went out she would vanish.
So she lit the whole bundle, so that her grandmother would stay.
Her grandmother lifted her up in her arms and carried her away to where there is no hunger, no cold, and no fear.
In the morning they found the girl at the corner of the house: she sat by the wall, her face flushed, smiling, and the matches lay beside her, one bundle burnt.
“She wanted to get warm,” said the people, and walked on.
Nobody knew what beautiful things she had seen, or in what light she had gone away that night.
Candles were burning in the windows, and inside, people were celebrating.
