on,
And bitter sleet blew cold;
It whitened all her scarlet cloak
And flying locks of gold.

The road was hid, and she was lost,
And knew not where to go;
And still the sharp blast swept her on,
Whether she would or no.

Now who is this amid the sleet?
His face she cannot see!
He tunes his pipe against the wind,
As merry as can be.

He tunes his pipe against the wind
With music sweet and wild,
When lo, a fluttering scarlet cape,
The sobbing of a child!

He took her up and held her close;
"I'll take you home," he said.
But still the little maid sobbed on,
Nor was she comforted.

"What! Cold and hungry, little maid,
And frightened of the storm?
I'll play upon my pipe," said he,
"And that will keep you warm!"

And lo, when first he blew his pipe,
It was a wondrous thing--
The sleet and snow turned all to flowers,
The birds began to sing!

When next he blew upon his pipe,
She marveled more and more;
For, built of gold with strange device,
A palace rose before!

A lovely lady led them in,
And there they sat them down;
The piper wore a purple cloak,
And she a snow-white gown.

And there was song and light and cheer,
Feasting and everything!
Who would have thought that Piping Will
Could be so great a king?

The third time that he blew his pipe
They took her to the queen;
Her hair was yellow as the sun,
And she was clothed in green.

[Illustration: "THEY TOOK HER TO THE QUEEN"]

Yet did she kiss that little maid,
Who should no longer roam--
When lo, the dear dream flashed away,
And there she was at home!

"Make this thy home, thou Piping Will,"
The Burgomaster cried.
"Thou hast restored our little maid!
I tell thee, thou must bide."

[Illustration: "'NAY, BIDE, THOU MERRY PIPER BOY!' THE KINDLY
HOUSE-DAMES SAID"]

[Illustration]

"Make this thy home, thou Piping Will,"
The bustling mother said.
"Come, warm thyself before the hearth
And eat the good white bread."

But Piping Will would only smile:
"Good friends, I cannot wait!"
(Who could have thought that tattered coat
Had been a robe of state!)

So forth he fared into the night,