shake their heads.

For the town money chest had been sadly emptied of late, and where was
the fifty pounds to come from? Such an easy job, too! Just getting into
a boat and playing a pipe! Why the Mayor himself could have done that if
only he had thought of it.

So he hummed and ha'ad and at last, "Come, my good man," said he, "you
see what poor folk we are; how can we manage to pay you fifty pounds?
Will you not take twenty? When all is said and done, 't will be good pay
for the trouble you've taken."

"Fifty pounds was what I bargained for," said the piper shortly; "and if
I were you I'd pay it quickly. For I can pipe many kinds of tunes, as
folk sometimes find to their cost."

"Would you threaten us, you strolling vagabond?" shrieked the Mayor, and
at the same time he winked to the Council; "the rats are all dead and
drowned," muttered he; and so "You may do your worst, my good man," and
with that he turned short upon his heel.

"Very well," said the Piper, and he smiled a quiet smile. With that he
laid his pipe to his lips afresh, but now there came forth no shrill
notes, as it were, of scraping and gnawing, and squeaking and scurrying,
but the tune was joyous and resonant, full of happy laughter and merry
play. And as he paced down the streets the elders mocked, but from
school-room and play-room, from nursery and workshop, not a child but
ran out with eager glee and shout following gaily at the Piper's call.
Dancing, laughing, joining hands and tripping feet, the bright throng
moved along up Gold Street and down Silver Street, and beyond Silver
Street lay the cool green forest full of old oaks and wide-spreading
beeches. In and out among the oak-trees you might catch glimpses of the
Piper's many-coloured coat. You might hear the laughter of the children
break and fade and die away as deeper and deeper into the lone green
wood the stranger went and the children followed.

All the while, the elders watched and waited. They mocked no longer now.
And watch and wait as they might, never did they set their eyes again
upon the Piper in his parti-coloured coat. Never were their hearts
gladdened by the song and dance of the children issuing forth from
amongst the ancient oaks of the forest.

Hereafterthis

Once upon a time there was a farmer called Jan, and he lived all alone
by himself in a little farmhouse.

By-and-by he thought that he would like to have a wife to keep it all
vitty for him.

So he