miller was talking the mouse and the rat kept a close
watch on Puss, Jr. They knew from experience, most likely, that cats are
not millers, and although Puss, Jr., with his boots and cap, his clothes
and staff, did not resemble an ordinary cat, at the same time he was a
cat. So the rat and the mouse kept at a safe distance.

"Tell your little friends," said Puss to the jolly miller, "that I won't
hurt a hair of them."

"Mousie," said the miller, leaning over and patting the little mouse,
"Sir Cat says he will not harm a hair of your tiny head."

"That's very kind of him," replied the little mouse in a squeaky voice.

The rat made the same answer when the miller patted him.

Just then the mother of the baby who was in the cradle on the tree-top
came by. She smiled at the miller, who took off his rusty, dusty cap.
"There she goes," he said to Puss. "She's going to take the cradle down
now. She'll take 'cradle, and baby, and all' home with her."

Puss stepped to the doorway to watch her. First she stood on tiptoe and
looked into the cradle. Then she smiled and leaned over and kissed the
baby, who began to crow and clap his hands. After she had kissed him
many times she lifted him out of the cradle and danced him up and down
on her knee. As she danced him gently up and down, she sang:

"Down in the village, all the day long,
Mother's been singing a sweet little song;
Just to herself she's been singing all day,
While baby's been rocking and rocking away:
'Hush-a-by, baby, upon the tree-top,
Mother is watching the tick-tocky clock;
Counting the minutes go by until she
Will be taking her baby boy down from the tree.'"

Then she laid the baby over her shoulder and, picking up the cradle,
started off for home.

"Let me carry the cradle for you," said Puss, Jr., running out of the
mill.

"That would be a great help," she replied, "for baby is getting very
heavy, and mother has been working hard all day."

So Puss put the cradle on his shoulder and, bowing to the miller,
followed after her, while the baby kicked and crowed and tried to reach
down and pull his whiskers. And Puss tickled the baby's hand and winked
at the baby, who gurgled and laughed and tried to pull the feather out
of Puss, Jr.'s, cap. And the little mother forgot all about her own
weariness, for baby lay so warm against her neck and his laugh tinkled
so sweetly in her ear!

THE MILKMAN'S HORSE, OLD NAG