There once was a village, High on a Hill, where scarves hung from every window, and fluttered in the wind like tatters of rainbows.
Every pair of hands in the village made scarves to sell to Kings and Emperors of foreign lands, and everyday streams of Royal emissaries came to the village to buy them. Even the children made scarves for Royal babies.
One day a wind, worse than ever, began to blow in. It whipped itself into a fierce rage, tearing hats from heads and pots and pans from their hooks. It took baskets and books, and blankets from beds, and one or two cats. And that was not all...
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