In the Autumn-room all the little musicians set about transposing the melody of the bird-songs from the major to the minor key, and they taught the Piper to bring his fifing into harmony with their voices. The small artists began changing the sky-coloring, and brought about such wonderful effects that it was marvellous to see, and Doris could scarcely realize at all that such wonders could be. After they had shown her the Winter-room and had seen her amazement at the glory of the snow-crystals and the mysterious way in which the rainbow colors were hidden in the ice, the Piper nodded his head, and they all turned back and began to retrace their steps. "I suppose thou didst wonder where we had been when thou didst join us, little friend," said the Piper. "I will tell thee. In the spring we all set out on our travels; for my children must see and learn, besides showing and teaching others. So in the spring we leave this place and go into the world. Then I go wandering about with my fife north and south, east and west, and the people think me the wind. But my dear children could not bear such fatigue; so they take up their abode in the trees, and remain there guiding the seasons and seeing that all is well; whispering to me as I pass and to one another, and singing softly to the stars and the clouds, and then every one mistakes and thinks them simply rustling leaves. Then, when I have finished my journeying, I give them a sign, and they dress themselves in gala-costume,--for joy at the thought of coming home,--and when every one is gay in red, purple, and yellow, they all slip down from the trees and away we go. People have great theories about the changing of the foliage, but it is a simple matter; as I tell you, it is only that my children are getting ready to go home. "During the winter we leave the world to sleep, for it grows very weary and needs rest. My children arrange its snow-coverlets for it, and then it slumbers, and the moon and stars keep watch. So now thou knowest all, little maid, and thou canst be one of us, and make the world bright and glorious if thou wilt. It only needs a beautiful soul, dear Doris; then one remains ever young, and can work many wonders." "Oh, I will, I will!" cried Doris, instantly. "But," said the Piper, "it takes such long experience. Thou seest my children had long years of it; and until thou canst make life bright within, thou couldst not venture without. But if thou wilt try, and be content to work in patience,--there are many children who are doing this--" "Oh, I will, I will!" said Doris, again. Then the children laughed more happily than ever, and the Piper raised his fife to his lips and blew a loud, glad note. What was this? The children had disappeared, the Piper was gone, and Doris sat by the window, and her book had dropped to the floor. She rubbed her eyes.