The Magician's Boy by Susan Cooper Page B

Boy.
    â€œThe ones you’ve been told all your life, of course,” said the signpost. “Starting with nursery rhymes. Choose a nursery rhyme. Come on. Any rhyme.”
    The Boy’s mind went blank. “Er,” he said.“Er … the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.”
    â€œNot a great choice,” said the signpost. “She doesn’t get out much. Still, here we go.” And it went trotting off through the trees.

The signpost trotted on through the trees. They looked like green lollipops.
    The Boy followed, because he didn’t know what else to do. They came to an open space, and in it was a gigantic shoe, as big as a house. It was a real shoe, made of leather, with huge shoelaces, but there were windowsset neatly into its sides. Just over the heel there was a front door, with steps leading up to it.
    Over the top of the shoe, where a foot would go in, was a sturdy tiled roof, with a smoking chimney. The Boy thought the house looked more like a boot than a shoe, but nobody had ever told him a story about the Old Woman Who Lived in a Boot.
    The signpost gave a loud whistle, and out of the front door came a yelling crowd of children, jumping and quarrelling. Some were barefoot, some were only half dressed, some were very grubby. Some swung on thegiant shoelaces, some pointed at the Boy and giggled.
    The Old Woman came running down the steps after them, very cross, shouting, “Hannah, Ellie, Marina, get off those laces! Jack, Charlie, Liam, put some clothes on!”
    She stopped, drying her hands on her apron. She wasn’t so very old, the Boy saw—just tired.
    â€œOh dear,” she said to herself, “it’s a hard thing to be blessed with so many little darlings.”
    The Boy said, “Excuse me, ma’am—”
    She looked at him in horror.“Oh no!” shesaid. “I’m sorry, not another child! I simply cannot cope! Try another shoe—a size larger!”
    Three little girls came grabbing at her apron, teasing, laughing.
    â€œI don’t want a home, ma’am,” the Boy said. “I’m just looking for Saint George.”
    The Old Woman tried to keep her balance, swatting at her children. “Well, you won’t find him here—there’s not a man in the land who would take on a family this size. Not even a saint!”
    The other children came running, shouting.
    â€œCan you tell me where to find Saint George?” the Boy yelled, as a small boy climbed up his back.

    The Old Woman didn’t answer. She shook herself free of the giggling children. “Quiet, all of you! Oh, what shall I do? For two pins I’d whip you all soundly and put you to bed!”
    The Boy thought that sounded like a good idea—but then he heard music. So did the children. They all stopped jumping about, and listened.
    Out of the trees came a cheerful tune, coming closer, closer—and into the clearing came a tall thin man playing a pipe. He wore pants and a shirt patched with red andblue and yellow, and shoes to match.
    â€œOh dear oh dear,” said the signpost. It jumped up and down at the Boy’s feet. “You know who that is?” it said.
    The Boy said, “He looks like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.”
    â€œHe is,” the signpost said. “And now we’re in trouble.”

The children began skipping in time to the Piper’s tune, clustering around him, laughing. The Piper kept on walking, so they skipped after him, out of the clearing, through the wood.
    â€œChildren!” called the Old Woman. “Come back!”
    But the children all skipped on, and the Boy went with them. The music was so happy that his feet wanted to skip too. The signpost came with him, but it was not at all happy. It kept muttering in its gruff little voice, “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”
    Through the trees the children went, dancing to the Piper’s music, and the path began to rise steeply. Up and up