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dishcloth.
    â€œJakob!” cried Marianna. “JAKOB!” But he couldn’t hear her.
    The door had closed.

CHAPTER
FOUR
    Black. Thick, inky black. Marianna held her hand up in front of her face but she couldn’t see it. And it was cold. So cold. When the door closed, summer had been left outside. In here it was winter. Marianna felt a cold breeze brushing across her face. She could hear dripping water. The music had gone and so had any happy feeling. She tried to move forward but other children were blocking her way. They were starting to panic. Huddling together like sheep when the wolf circles.
    Then she heard a sound— sssssp —like a sausage sizzling in a pan. Suddenly the space was filled with light. A warm, golden glow that illuminated the walls and ceiling of the tunnel they were in. Looking over the heads of the smaller children, Marianna could see the Piper. He was holding his pipe in the air. It was glowing like a torch.
    The Piper turned to the children and smiled— a strange, fleeting smile that didn’t quite warm his eyes.
    â€œCome,” he said.
    Marianna didn’t want to go anywhere. She wanted to get out, back to Jakob. But the Piper put his still-glowing pipe to his lips and instantly Jakob was forgotten, swept away in a flurry of notes that danced in the air like mayflies. And when the Piper started walking, Marianna followed without question. They all did. The Piper had smiled. There was nothing to worry about. This was an adventure! A magical journey with the most wonderful man in the world.
    They walked on. The tunnel was narrow and, with so many children jostling for space, elbows were scraped against the jagged walls. There were drips from the ceiling and puddles on the path. Marianna could feel the wetness creeping up her skirt. Her petticoat was starting to slap against her legs.
    â€œ Yuck! ” said Karl, the mayor’s son. “I’m soaking wet.”
    He had slipped on a particularly wet patch and now his backside was soaked. But no one seemed to care.
    â€œI’m soaking wet,” he said, louder this time.
    â€œWe’re all wet,” said a boy beside him. “Stop making a fuss. Enjoy yourself.”
    Karl scowled and walked on.
    Marianna felt a small hand slipping into her own. Looking down, she saw Greta, the baker’s daughter. She was no more than six years old, with a face as pretty as a buttercup in June.
    â€œAre you on your own?” Marianna asked her. “Isn’t your brother with you?”
    Greta shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said. “We were in the shop. The music came and Fred ran off. I saw him dancing in the market square. I was dancing too. It was the best fun, wasn’t it, Mari?”
    â€œOh yes!” said Marianna with a smile. “So you think Fredrik is here somewhere?”
    Greta nodded and hugged her rag doll close.
    â€œWe’ll find him eventually,” said Marianna, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t you worry about that. Look at these.” She pointed at the tunnel ceiling.
    â€œIcicles!” said Greta.
    Marianna smiled. “That’s what they look like, but they’re called stalactites. You see that water, dripping from the roof ? That’s been dripping for hundreds of thousands of years, drip—drip—drip in exactly the same place. Every drip leaves a tiny bit of stuff behind. That’s how they grow.”
    Greta paused and gazed at the delicate formations. “They’re like dragon’s teeth,” she said at last. “Are they cold?”
    â€œEverything is cold down here,” laughed Marianna. “Come on!”
    Marianna hurried on, pulling Greta behind her. She didn’t want to lose sight of the Piper. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall and slender. Graceful as a cat. He had beautiful hands with long, slim fingers and the darkest, most heavenly hair. It reached to his