er teapot in his claws, the cat sprang back with it to his mistress,
who, snatching the teapot, hid it under her red cloak. At this Polly
sprang to her feet, with a cry of mingled fear and anger; but the witch
(for this certainly must have been a witch, if ever there was one,)
pointed her stick at her, and muttered some strange words which sounded
like "Buggara wuggera boogle jum, Hobble-gobble!" She said this last
word suddenly and sharply, and Polly was quite startled; but fancy her
alarm when a large black cat crept out from beneath the red cloak, and
sitting down on his mistress's knee, looked up in her face with an air
of unearthly sagacity, and poor Polly fell back in her chair, unable to
move hand or foot. There she sat, motionless, but perfectly conscious,
watching this dreadful old hag. And what do you think the creature did
next? She took some strange looking herbs from her pocket, and put them
in the teapot, which she then filled with water and set on the stove.
Then, calling to her cat, she began to hop slowly round the stove on one
foot. The cat followed her, hopping first on one black foot and then on
another, but keeping its unearthly green eyes fixed on Polly all the
time. The witch kept muttering strange words like those which had thrown
the spell on Polly; while her companion moved in time if not in tune.

"Buggara wuggara, boogle jum jum!
I will have all, and my cat shall have some.
Boogle jum! boogle jmm! buggara boom!
Down with the teapot and up with the broom!"

"By the time she had hopped round the stove six times, the water in the
teapot was boiling furiously. The old hag stopped and said "Hobble
gobble, prince of cats, produce the broom-stick!"

"The cat jumped up on the stove, without seeming to mind the heat in the
least, though the iron was nearly red hot. He lifted the lid of the
teapot, and took out--what do you think, now? You will never believe me,
but I am not responsible for the story. He took out--a broom. A long
broom, with a bright red handle, which seemed somehow as if it was
alive, for it actually wriggled as the cat, leaping down from the stove,
handed it to his mistress. The old woman snatched it, and waved it three
times round Polly's head. Then she mounted the stick as if it were a
horse, and calling once more to her cat, she rose in the air, and
vanished up the chimney, the cat sitting beside her on the broom-stick,
and grinning hid