There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling of merry crowds, jostling at pitching and hustling. Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping and little tongues chattering and like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering. Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, with rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, and sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, tripping and skipping, ran merrily after the wonderful music with shouting and laughter. When, lo, as they reached the mountainside, a wondrous portal opened wide, as if a cavern was suddenly hollowed. And the Piper advanced and the children followed. And when all were in to the very last, the door in the mountainside shut fast. Did I say all? No. One was lame and could not dance the whole of the way. And in after years, if you would blame his sadness, he was used to say, “It’s dull in our town since my playmates left. I can’t forget that I’m bereft of all the pleasant sights they see, which the Piper also promised me. For he led us, he said, to a joyous land joining the town and just to hand where waters gushed and fruit trees grew and flowers put forth a fairer hue and everything was strange and new.”
