they might
outwit their enemy, the Cat. But good advice was scarce, and in vain
the president called upon all the most experienced mice present to
find a way.

At last a very young mouse held up two fingers and asked to be allowed
to speak, and as soon as he could get permission he said:

"I've been thinking for a long time why the Cat is such a dangerous
enemy. Now, it's not so much because of her quickness, though people
make so much fuss about that. If we could only _notice_ her in time,
I've no doubt we're nimble enough to jump into our holes before she
could do us any harm. It's in her velvet paws, there's where she hides
her cruel claws till she gets us in her clutches--that's where her
power lies. With those paws she can tread so lightly that we can't
hear her coming. And so, while _we_ are still dancing heedlessly about
the place, she creeps close up, and before we know where we are she
pounces down on us and has us in her clutches. Well, then, it's my
opinion we ought to hang a bell round her neck to warn us of her
coming while there's yet time."

Every one applauded this proposal, and the council decided that it
should be carried out.

Now the question to be settled was, who should undertake to fasten the
bell round the Cat's neck?

The president declared that no one could be better fitted for the task
than he who had given such excellent advice.

But at that the young mouse became quite confused and stammered an
excuse. He was too young for the deed, he said. He didn't know the
Cat well enough. His grandfather, who knew her better, would be more
suited to the job.

But the grandfather declared that just because he knew the Cat very
well he would take good care not to attempt such a task.

And the long and the short of it was that no other mouse would
undertake the duty; and so this clever proposal was never carried out,
and the Cat remained mistress of the situation.

* * * * *

LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD

In a great wide forest, full of beautiful trees, and green glades,
and thorny thickets, there lived a long time ago a wood-cutter and his
wife, who had only one child, a little girl. She was so pretty, and so
good, that the sun seemed to shine more brightly when its light fell
upon her rosy little face, and the birds would seem to sing more
sweetly when she was passing by.

Her real name was Maisie; but the neighbors round about all called her
"Little Red