e down.

[Illustration]

Out stepped a little gentleman mouse, and made a bow to the tailor!

And then from all over the dresser came a chorus of little tappings, all
sounding together, and answering one another, like watch-beetles in an old
worm-eaten window-shutter--

_Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip_!

And out from under tea-cups and from under bowls and basins, stepped other
and more little mice who hopped away down off the dresser and under the
wainscot.

[Illustration]

The tailor sat down, close over the fire, lamenting--"One-and-twenty
button-holes of cherry-coloured silk! To be finished by noon of
Saturday: and this is Tuesday evening. Was it right to let loose those
mice, undoubtedly the property of Simpkin? Alack, I am undone, for I have
no more twist!"

The little mice came out again, and listened to the tailor; they took
notice of the pattern of that wonderful coat. They whispered to one
another about the taffeta lining, and about little mouse tippets.

And then all at once they all ran away together down the passage behind
the wainscot, squeaking and calling to one another, as they ran from house
to house; and not one mouse was left in the tailor's kitchen when Simpkin
came back with the pipkin of milk!

[Illustration]

Simpkin opened the door and bounced in, with an angry "G-r-r-miaw!" like a
cat that is vexed: for he hated the snow, and there was snow in his ears,
and snow in his collar at the back of his neck. He put down the loaf and
the sausages upon the dresser, and sniffed.

"Simpkin," said the tailor, "where is my twist?"

But Simpkin set down the pipkin of milk upon the dresser, and looked
suspiciously at the tea-cups. He wanted his supper of little fat mouse!

"Simpkin," said the tailor, "where is my TWIST?"

[Illustration]

But Simpkin hid a little parcel privately in the tea-pot, and spit and
growled at the tailor; and if Simpkin had been able to talk, he would have
asked: "Where is my MOUSE?"

"Alack, I am undone!" said the Tailor of Gloucester, and went sadly to
bed.

All that night long Simpkin hunted and searched through the kitchen,
peeping into cupboards and under the wainscot, and into the tea-pot where
he had hidden that twist; but still he found never a mouse!

Whenever the tailor muttered and talked in his sleep, Simpkin said
"Miaw-ger-r-w-s-s-ch!" and made strange horrid noises, as cats do at
night.

[Illustration]

For the poor old tailor was very ill with