"Yes," said the Piper, "that will be very nice; but first, if you please,
I should like my thousand guineas."

"H'm,--er--ahem!" said the Mayor. "You mean that little joke of mine; of
course that was a joke." (You see it is always harder to pay for a thing
when you no longer need it.)

"I do not joke," said the Piper very quietly; "my thousand guineas, if you
please."

"Oh, come, now," said the Mayor, "you know very well it wasn't worth
sixpence to play a little tune like that; call it one guinea, and let it
go at that."

"A bargain is a bargain," said the Piper; "for the last time,--will you
give me my thousand guineas?"

"I'll give you a pipe of tobacco, something good to eat, and call you
lucky at that!" said the Mayor, tossing his head.

Then the Piper's mouth grew strange and thin, and sharp blue and green
lights began dancing in his eyes, and he said to the Mayor very softly, "I
know another tune than that I played; I play it to those who play me
false."

"Play what you please! You can't frighten me! Do your worst!" said the
Mayor, making himself big.

Then the Piper stood high up on the steps of the town hall, and put the