nybody at home?" said Puss, flicking the dust off the red tops of
his boots in a most unconcerned way, as if, indeed, he had been
accustomed to making calls all his life.

The maid held out a little silver tray. "I will take your card."

Poor Puss! He didn't have any!

"But I'm Puss in Boots, Junior," he said, with such a lovely purr that
the maid opened the door wide:

"Come in, dear Puss, Junior."

Just then Wee Willie Winkie ran down the stairs, crying: "Are the
children in their beds? It's past eight o'clock." Closing the front
door, he whispered through the keyhole, "Are the children in their
beds?" And before he reached the sidewalk he turned back and, rapping on
the window, cried, "It's past eight o'clock!"

"Little kittens don't need Wee Willie Winkie, I guess," said the maid,
tickling Puss, Jr.'s, head.

"Hush-a-bye, baby, lie still with thy daddy;
Thy mammy has gone to the mill
To get some meal to bake a cake,
So pray, my dear baby, lie still."

The lullaby made Puss, Jr., sleepy, for the man's voice was low and
tender, and Puss was very tired.

In a sleepy voice he asked, "And has the mother gone to the mill to get
the meal for the cake?"

"Indeed she has," replied the maid.

After this she went into the kitchen. Puss gazed about him for a while
and then dropped off to sleep, hearing the drowsy voice of the man
up-stairs singing:

"Hush-a-bye, baby, lie still with thy daddy."

All was very quiet. "Tick-tock, tick-tock," said the big clock, and a
mouse peeped out of his hole and laughed to himself when he saw Puss
fast asleep. He tiptoed over to the red-topped boots that had fallen off
Puss, Jr.'s, tired little feet, and even crawled inside. Perhaps he
wanted to tell his father how brave he had been to go inside a big cat's
high-top boots while the owner snored close by. Presently he ran over to
the hole in the wall. I imagine it did not take him long to tell his
story, for in a few minutes three little mice crept out and tiptoed over
to where Puss lay sleeping so soundly.

"Did you ever see any nicer boots than these?"

Mr. Mouse put on a very wise expression.

"They are certainly a very fine pair of boots," said he, "and they have
the mark of a royal cobbler."

"Gracious me! how interesting!" cried Mrs. Mouse; "let me take a
look." And she inspected Puss, Jr.'s, footwear with much interest.
"Beautifully made," she said. "This must be a royal cat, for otherwis