Illustrated by Greg Rogers
I was the only one left behind. All the kids in the town, all of them followed the Pied Piper. They went dancing behind him up the mountain path. A huge rock face opened wide and in they went behind the Pied Piper. I hurried to join them. I hurried as best I could, leaning on the stout stick my father had made but I was not fast enough. The rock face closed before I could get there. But I had glimpsed an enchanted land. Rare birds and animals and fabulous trees and flowers and the strong perfume of springtime inside there . . .
