FT MEfiDE GenCol 1 PUSS-IN-BOOTS, Jr., and Tom Thumb V -'V By DAVID CORY Harper & Brothers Established 1817 Cte : ’ 2- I > up. By and by they came to a meadow where a bonfire was burning. The flames crackled mer- rily, and seemed to say, “Why don’t you ask us to help?" So the old woman climbed over the fence and said to the fire: “Fire, fire, burn stick; Stick won’t beat dog; Dog won’t bite pig; Piggy won’t get over the stile, And I sha’n’t get home to-night.” But the fire would not, and then the old woman didn’t know what to do. “Don’t give up hope," said Puss, Junior; “perhaps we will find some kind person to help us yet." THE OBSTINATE PIG PERHAPS you can ride the pig/' suggested Tom Thumb. And, sure enough, as soon as Puss jumped on his back the pig set off at a great rate. But still he wouldn’t jump over the stile. Goodness me! What was to be done? Not a traveler appeared upon the broad highway. The sun was low in the sky and it looked as if they would be unable to get the pig home that night. “I've often heard it was a most difficult thing to drive a pig,” remarked the old woman, “but I never realized it so thoroughly as I do just at this moment.” “Some of the good old sayings are pretty true,” said Puss, Junior, with a grin. “My father, who is the seneschal for my lord of Carabas, is very fond of quoting them.” A merry little brook ran under the bridge that spanned the highway, and as Puss looked over the railing at the sparkling water he spied a trout swimming about. Puss was fond of fish, as all cats are, but before he could make up his mind to go fishing the old woman cried out: 98 THE OBSTINATE PIG “Water, water, quench fire; Fire won’t burn stick; Stick won’t beat dog; Dog won’t bite pig; Piggy won’t get over the stile. And I sha’n’t get home to-night.' ” But the water would not. It was just as dis- obliging as all the others. So of course there was nothing left to do but try again. In the meadow stood a great ox. The sweet clover waved about his feet and the grass wrinkled and crinkled in the afternoon breeze. “Come along,” said the old woman to Puss, 99 > > > ) > PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB Junior, climbing over the fence and walking up to the ox, who seemed quite disgusted at being disturbed. He looked first at her and then at Puss, Junior. The old woman was a bit fright- ened, and also a little out of breath, so she waited a minute before she said: “Ox, ox, drink water; Water won’t quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won’t beat dog; Dog won’t bite pig; Piggy won’t get over the stile, And I sha’n’t get home to-night.” • « But the great big ox said he wasn’t the least bit thirsty. In fact, he wanted to eat more clover and would be very much obliged if they would let him alone. And he angrily tossed his head, so the old woman beat a hasty retreat, taking Puss by the paw and climbing over the fence as fast as possible. MORE TROUBLE HE old woman and Puss, Junior, were now almost discouraged, for everybody had re- fused to help them get piggy over the stile. “I wish I had never found that crooked sixpence,’’ cried the old woman, the tears coming to her eyes. “We might have bought a little spotted cow. I never was fond of pigs, anyway,” said Puss, with a sigh. Just then who should come along but a good- natured, fat butcher. At least he looked good natured until the old woman said: “Butcher, butcher, kill ox; Ox won’t drink water.” “Why should I kill the ox,” said he. “Just because he won’t drink water? Maybe he isn’t thirsty.” “He said he wasn’t,” said Puss, Junior. “Well, there you are!” laughed the butcher, who suddenly seemed to regain his good humor. “Did you not ever hear the old saying, ‘You can lead a horse to the trough, but you can’t make him drink’?” “But a horse isn’t an ox,” said the old woman. 101 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “I only want the ox to drink the water, the water to quench the fire, the fire to burn the stick, and the stick to beat the dog, and the dog to bite the pig, so that I can get him over the stile and take him home with me.” “Mercy me!” exclaimed the butcher. “This is a mixed-up state of affairs. I must be going.” And he bowed and walked away. “The same old story,” sighed the old woman. “Nobody wants to help. What are we going to 1 ^ n do: “Keep up a brave heart. Who said we were beaten?” said Puss, bravely. Just then the butcher called out: “Here is a strong piece of rope. Why don't you tie it around the pig’s neck and pull him up over the stile? ” But, instead, the old woman said to the rope: “Rope, rope, hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox.” But the rope would not, and the butcher, on hearing these words, took to his heels and ran off. He wasn't going to be hung, neither was he going to kill the ox, so he thought the only way out was to run away, which he did, and mighty fast at that. “Ha, ha!” laughed Puss, Junior, in spite of his disappointment. “I never knew a fat butcher could run so fast!” 102 MORE TROUBLE “Nor I,” said the old woman; “nor that ropes and sticks and dogs and oxen could be so dis- obliging. Why, one would think I was asking them to lend me money. I've always heard that was the hardest thing to get.” « 103 I PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “We must keep on trying,” said Puss, “for we can’t leave Tom Thumb on the stile all night to watch the pig. Perhaps this time we will be more lucky.” Well, just then a rat ran across the road, and the old woman asked him to gnaw the rope, because the rope wouldn’t hang the butcher. But the rat replied: “No, madam! Why should I make a hangman out of the rope? I will not!” And off he ran to the barn. THE WISP OF HAY ALTHOUGH everybody had refused to help • the old woman get the pig over the stile, Puss, Junior, did not give up hope. “Let me ask the next person. Perhaps he’ll help, es- pecially if he be an animal.” “Very well,” said the old woman, and just then who should come along but a nice-looking pussy cat. “Here is my chance,” said Puss, Junior, straightening the long, trailing feather on his cap and curling his whiskers so as to look as hand- some as possible. “Cat, cat, kill rat; Rat won't gnaw rope; Rope won't hang butcher; Butcher won’t kill ox; Ox won’t drink water; Water won’t quench fire; Fire won’t burn stick; Stick won’t beat dog; Dog won’t bite pig; Piggy won’t go over the stile, And I sha’n’t get home to-night.’* “If you will go to yonder cow and fetch me a saucer of milk, I will kill the rat,” answered the pussy cat, with a lovely smile, 105 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “Do you hear what she says?” asked Puss, Junior, turning to the old woman. “I do,” said the old woman. “And I will go and milk the cow. I have a little saucer in my bag. How lucky I am ! ” So away went the old woman to the cow. “Cow, cow, give me a saucer of milk; cat won’t kill rat unless you do.” But the cow said to her, “If you will go to yonder haymakers and fetch me a wisp of hay, I will give you the milk.” So the old woman went to the haymakers and said, “Haymakers, give me a wisp of hay; cow won’t give me milk; and if I don’t get a wisp of hay, so many things won’t happen that I shall give up in despair.” But the haymakers hardly paused in their work. By and by one of them said, “Old woman, if you will go to yonder stream and fetch us a bucket of water, we’ll give you the hay'” “Oh, dearie me!” said the poor old woman. “I’m very tired.” So Puss carried the bucket, but when they reached the stream they found the bucket was full of holes. “Dearie me!” exclaimed the old woman again, “what are we going to do?” “Never mind,” said Puss, picking up a number of pebbles and fitting them carefully into the holes. After the bucket was filled with water 100 107 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB the old woman went back to the haymakers, who gave her a wisp of hay. And as soon as the cow had eaten it she gave the old woman the milk, who filled the saucer and gave it to the cat. And as soon as the cat had lapped up the milk she began to kill the rat, the rat began to gnaw the rope, the rope began to hang the butcher, the butcher began to kill the ox, the ox began to drink the water, the water began to quench the fire, the fire began to burn the stick, the stick began to beat the dog, the dog began to bite the pig, who jumped over the stile and went home with the old woman. THE FOUR-IN-HAND TP at Piccadilly, oh! the coachman takes his stand. And when he meets a pretty girl he takes her by the hand. Whip away forever, oh! drive away so clever, oh! All the way to Bristol, oh! he drives his four-in-hand.” Then Puss, Junior, and Tom Thumb climbed up on the big stage coach. Crack! went the whip, and away went the horses. Round and around went the wheels, bumpty-bumpty, over the rough cobbles. “Whip away forever, oh! drive away so clever, oh!” sang Puss, Junior. “Isn’t it nice to ride again! I'm weary walking and my red-topped boots are almost threadbare.” “So are my shoes,” replied little Tom Thumb. Just then a voice cried out, “Stop the coach; we want to get on.” Puss looked down and saw Little Bo Peep and Red Riding Hood. And when they saw him they shouted, “Oh, there he is! Our dear Puss in Boots, Junior.” “Whoa!” cried the driver, and stopped the big coach. In a moment the two little girls were aboard, and Puss was kissed and hugged until he began to mew. “Don’t hug him to death,” said Tom Thumb. “Besides, you’re mussing his coat.” 109 * PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB Pretty soon the coach stopped again, and there stood the old woman who lived in a shoe. All her children were with her, and you can imagine how crowded the coach was when they all got aboard. There were faces at every window, and every seat on top was crowded. “Merrily we jog along,” and their laughter echoed through the streets as they passed from village to village. “Let’s stop at the next candy shop and give the children a treat,” cried Tom Thumb. So the driver kept a sharp lookout, but before they came to one the coach stopped again, and there stood Simple Simon; Cinderella; Tom, the piper’s son and little Jack Horner. “We want to go to Bristol, oh! We ll stop you with a pistol, oh! So don’t say no, but let us go, All the way to Bristol.” Of course, the good-natured driver couldn’t refuse. Oh my, no! So he pulled in the four- in-hand, and some of the children sat on each other’s laps, and some stood up, and Tom Thumb jumped on Puss, Junior’s, shoulder and held on to his ear, which made the children laugh. And, oh my! it was a merry party! And when they were just about to enter the city of Bristol they saw Mary and her little lamb. Again the coach stopped, but when it came to squeezing in the lambkin it was another matter. There no THE FOUR-IN-HAND wasn’t room, that was all there was to it. So the little lamb ran along under the coach just like a coach dog, and when they reached Bristol its wool was so full of dust that it took Mary a whole day to wash it. “I declare,” cried Mary, “I seem to have a lot of trouble with my lamb.” “Not as nearly as much as I do with my sheep,” answered Bo Peep. “They are always losing their tails, although Boy Blue promised to look after them while I was away.” THE MONSTROUS CROW rPWEEDLE-DUM and Tweedle-dee * Resolved to have a battle. For Tweedle-dum said Tweedle-dee Had spoiled his nice new rattle. “What are those children fighting over, I wonder?” said Puss, Junior, to Tom Thumb. “We’ll soon find out,” replied Tom, hurrying over to where two small boys were fistcuffing each other in great shape. “Come, come,” cried Puss, “what means all this? Why should two small boys fight? Tell me what’s it all about?” “Tweedle-dee broke my rattle,” cried one of them. “I did not,” replied Tweedle-dee. “I only rattled it a little too hard.” And then they set to work again, pummeling each other with might and main. Just then flew by a monstrous crow As big as a tar barrel. Which frightened both the heroes so They both forgot their quarrel. At the sight of the monstrous crow little Tom Thumb crept into Puss, Junior’s, pocket. Puss m X TONES BABCOCK PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB had already unsheathed his sword, ready to de- fend himself in case the monstrous bird should offer battle. But he didn’t. He merely perched himself on a near-by tree and looked at our small hero. “Put away your sword,” cried the crow. “I wouldn’t hurt the scarecrow in yonder cornfield! Haw, haw! Caw, caw!" And the monstrous crow gave a monstrous grin. Indeed, he opened his beak so wide that Puss almost saw his tail at the other end ! Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee stood by with mouths and eyes wide open. They were too sur- prised to say a word. And perhaps some of my little readers would have been so, too, had they seen this monstrous crow. His wings were so long that they reached clear through to the other side of the big apple tree, and his tail feathers reached down to the ground, and when he said, “Haw, haw! Caw, caw!” all the leaves trembled and turned inside out! But all this didn't make Puss, Junior, the least bit afraid. No, indeed! He stood with his trusty sword in his good right paw, ready for anything. But nothing happened. The mon- strous crow, after a short time, flapped his wings and flew away, and as he passed overhead he cried out in a hoarse voice: “Though I he as black as night. You should never take afright; 114 THE MONSTROUS CROW Though my wings are black and long, I could never do you wrong. So good-by to you to-day; I shall soon be far away. There are other birds, you know. Uglier than Mr. Crow!” But, oh, dear me! Puss and Tom Thumb had gone but a short distance when a blackbird sud- denly swooped down and carried off little Tom Thumb. So swiftly did the bird snatch up the little fellow that Puss was hardly aware of what had happened until he heard Tom Thumb calling for help. The blackbird flew straight for its nest near the top of a tall pine tree. Puss pulled off his red-topped boots and commenced to climb up the trunk to rescue his little friend. THE BLACKBIRD HE was a good climber and went up the tree at a good rate. The blackbird’s nest was almost at the top, but Puss was not discouraged. “Draw your sword and fight for your life!” he called out to little Tom Thumb. This was exactly what Tom was doing. But, oh, dear me! the bird’s feathers were so thick and Tom’s weapon so small that at first the blackbird hardly noticed it at all. By and by, however, Tom’s thrusts began to tell, and by the time he was dropped into the nest the blackbird had been stabbed several times. The nest was empty, and as soon as Tom stood upon his feet he swung his sword in the air and cried out, “Away with you, villain of a blackbird!” The blackbird perched himself on the edge of the nest and regarded Tom most curiously. “I do not mean to harm you,” he said. “I am so lonely up here in my empty house that I want some one to talk to. That’s the reason I carried you off. I’m no robber, neither am I a villain.” Just then Puss, Junior, reached the nest, and the blackbird flew over to a limb at a' safer distance. 116 THE BLACKBIRD “You did well to make your escape,” cried Puss, “for I would have wrung your cowardly neck had I caught you.” “Let me explain,” replied the blackbird. Puss didn’t wait to listen, but, hastily picking up little Tom Thumb, hid him in his pocket. “Won't you let me explain?” cried the black- bird a . second time. “Explain what?” asked Puss, Junior, angrily. “I don't see that there is anything to explain. I'd like to cut off your head with my trusty sword.” “You mistake mv intentions,” said the black- bird. “I was just telling Tom Thumb that the reason I carried him off was because I was lonely up here in my empty nest and wanted a comrade.” “Yes, that was what he was saying,” called Tom Thumb from the inside of Puss, Junior's, pocket. “But, all the same, I’m glad to be in your pocket, dear Puss. Our black friend here woidd probably have fed me on worms had you not rescued me — and I'm not fond of that sort of food.” “Wait and hear my storv ! ” cried the blackbird. “Not now,” answered Puss, sliding carefully down to the ground so as not to spill Tom out of his pocket. AN EMPTY NEST “XJOW won’t you please listen to my story? I don’t want you to think so ill of me,” begged the blackbird, fluttering down to the meadow. “Well, go ahead,” cried Puss, Junior. “Now that Tom is safe, I suppose we might as well delay our journey to hear what you have to say. You certainly are persistent enough.” “It is not a long story,” commenced the black- bird. “For it was only in the early spring that I lost my mate. You see, we had just finished the nest and were going housekeeping at once, when a man with a gun shot Mrs. Blackbird. It's very lonesome up there on the top of the tree in an empty nest. That's why, when I saw little Tom Thumb on your shoulder, I flew down and carried him off. I thought he’d make a jolly little playfellow.” “Well, you don’t seem as black as you’re painted,” said Puss, Junior. “But let me give you a little advice. Think of the other fellow next time before you do your kidnapping.” The blackbird looked very sorrowful, so Tom got out his harmonica and commenced to play a tune. This made everybody feel much happier. 118 AN EMPTY NEST When the song ended. Puss looked at Tom and said: “Shall we ask the blackbird to join us? He seems a good old sort of a bird, after all.” “By all means,” replied Tom Thumb. “He really meant no harm.” “Why don’t you join our party?” said Puss, turning to the blackbird. “Would you like to travel?” “Delighted!” cried the blackbird, his eyes brightening and his feathers shining with a new luster. “I would travel to the North Pole with you.” “Well, come along,” cried Puss. “We will now proceed upon our journey of adventure.” And he strode off down the road, followed by the blackbird. They had gone but a few steps when they heard a dog barking. The sounds seemed to come from a small house a short distance off. “More trouble,” said Puss. “Whenever I hear a dog bark I am sure there is, or there is going to be, a fuss.” “I'll keep the dog away,” said the blackbird, stoutly. “No dog shall harm Puss, Junior.” “Thank you,” said Puss, “but I find that I can take pretty good care of myself. Not that I do not appreciate your kind offer, but Puss, Junior, has met many dogs in his travels and is still possessor of his trusty sword.” 9 STOLEN BARLEY BUT no dog molested them, and after a while Puss, Junior, Tom Thumb, and the black- bird came to a baker s shop. Outside his door stood the baker, whip in hand, and a small boy, weeping bitterly. “What’s the matter? ” asked Puss, Junior. “Charley, Charley, stole the barley Out of the baker's shop; The baker came out and gave him a clout, Which made poor Charley hop.” # Puss, Junior, looked at the big baker’s flushed face and little Charley’s tearful eves. “Don't strike him again, please,” said Puss. The baker dropped his whip on the sidewalk. “Perhaps I've whipped him enough,” he said; “but it’s a bad boy who steals, and Charley certainly stole my barley, for there is the bag on the ground just where he let it drop when I caught him.” Yes, it certainly was so. The bag had broken and the barley was scattered over the walk. “And it was only last Friday that I sent his mother some cakes,” continued the baker, “because she was ill and could not bake.” 120 STOLEN BARLEY She is ill to-day,” sobbed Charley, “and Airs. Brown came over to take care of her. But we had no barley in the house to make broth, neither did we have any money ; that’s the reason I took the bag of barley. I didn’t mean to steal it.” “What!” cried the baker. “Is your good mother sick? Take her the barley and tell her to pay me when she can.” And he ran into his shop and brought out another bag and handed it to Charley. “You are a kind man,” said Puss, Junior, as the small boy ran off to his home. “Have you any nice fresh crullers?” 121 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “Yes,” answered the baker. In a few minutes Tom Thumb and the black- bird had eaten the last crumb. You see, a cruller was as big as little Tom. In fact, he could crawl through the hole; so he and the blackbird were quite content to eat the crumbs! BLACK SHEEP WE might have known we would see a black sheep,” laughed Puss, Junior, as he and Tom Thumb and the blackbird came to a pasture that bordered the highway. “Why?” inquired Tom Thumb, from the inside of Puss, Junior’s, pocket, where he had hidden himself so as to enjoy a good nap. “Because the blackbird is traveling with us,” answered Puss. “What can we expect to find but black sheep and black cats?” The sheep by this time had come up close to the fence and stood looking at our three small trav- elers with much interest. The blackbird, who had perched himself on the top rail, was the first to speak. “Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool?” “Yes, sir; yes, sir, Three bags full. One for my master, One for my dame, And one for the little boy That lives in our lane,” answered the black sheep, with a wiggle of his tail. 123 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “Do you belong to Little Bo Peep?” asked Tom Thumb, looking out of Puss, Junior’s, pocket. “No, sir. No sir,” answered the black sheep. “And I’m sure you’re not Mary’s little lamb,” said Puss, Junior, “for I have seen it, and it doesn't look anything like you. It's white — its fleece is white as snow.” “I'm just plain baa, baa, black sheep,” replied the sheep. “But have you seen the little boy that lives in our lane?” “No, I haven't,” replied Puss. “Well, he’s just the nicest little boy you ever saw,” answered the sheep. “You come along with me and I’ll take you to him.” So our three small travelers followed the black sheep down a shady lane to a small house. In the front yard was a little boy playing with his toys. On seeing the black sheep he ran out of the gate, but stopped as soon as he saw Puss, Junior, and the blackbird. He didn't see Tom Thumb at first, for Tom was in Puss, Junior’s, pocket, you remember. “Here are some friends of mine, little boy,” said the black sheep. “They are all Mother Goose people, so you need not be afraid of them.” “I'm not,” said the little boy, “only I was surprised; I wasn't afraid.” “Bravely said, my boy,” said Puss, Junior; 124 BLACK SHEEP “and, if you wish, I will tell you some of my adventures.” The little boy clapped his hands, and then they all sat down. And in the next story you shall hear what Puss said. A GOOD GUESS “ /^'YNCE upon a time, ’’commenced Puss, Junior, after the little boy had seated himself on the steps of the piazza, and the blackbird had perched himself on the railing, and Tom Thumb had crept out of Puss, Junior’s, pocket, and the baa, baa, black sheep had lain down on the lawn — and I’m glad to say there are no more “ands,” for we would never hear Puss, Junior’s, story if we kept on at this rate — “a cat went up into a garret just to look around, when he saw on the floor an old book.” “On the cover was a picture of a cat wearing red-topped boots. ‘This must be the portrait of my father, Puss in Boots,’ he cried, for that was the name of the story-book cat!” The little boy looked at Puss, Junior’s, red- tooped boots and gave a happy little laugh. “Aren’t you the cat that went up into the garret? ” And this time Puss, Junior, laughed. “Yes,” he replied; “you have guessed right, my little man. I am that cat.” “And did you find your father?” asked the little boy. “I did,” replied Puss, Junior. “I found 126 A GOOD GUESS him in the castle of my lord of Carabas, and I stayed there with him for nearly a year.” “And why did you leave?” asked the little boy. “Oh, I just wanted to see more of the wide, wide world,” replied Puss, Junior. “And don’t you ever miss your father?” asked the little boy. “Yes, I do, very often,” replied Puss, Junior, purring softly into the little boy’s ear. And then, all of a sudden, the little boy saw Tom Thumb in Pu ss, Junior’s, pocket. 127 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “Who are you?” cried the little boy, stretching out his hand. But Tom had no intention of being picked up by a small boy. He had seen kittens picked up by their small owners, and he wasn't going to run any chances. “I am Tom Thumb,” he answered, running off to a safe distance. “Come back! Come back!” cried the little boy. “I want to play with you. I won't hurt you. “I don’t want to be played with,” said Tom Thumb. “If you'll promise to let me alone I’ll come back. But you’ll have to let me alone.” Then, Puss, Junior, began to tell more about himself, and in the next story you shall hear what happened after that. i ANOTHER STORY Tell me another story about yourself,” said the little boy, cuddling up to Puss, Junior. So Puss, Junior, crossed one leg over the other and commenced : “One day I met little Red Riding Hood on her way to her grandmother’s with a basket of good things, which I helped her to carry, and when we reached her grandmother's house she asked me in. As soon as she told her grandmother that I was downstairs in the hall the dear old lady asked me to come up to see her. So I ran up the stairs and found them both sitting in a cozy room. “In the bay window was a box of red ger- aniums, and just above, hung from a nail in the wall, was a bird cage with a pretty yellow canary in it. “My grandmother has a canary,” said the little boy, “but she hasn’t got any geraniums.” “I guess there are lots of grandmothers who haven't got geraniums,” said Puss. “By and by little Red Riding Hood said she must go. So we said good-by and started for her house. I had a big staff in those days. It was very, very strong and I could swing it like everything. 129 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB Well, after we had gone into the woods for some distance, what do you suppose happened?” The little boy opened his eyes very wide and said, “Did the wolf come?” ‘‘Yes, he did,” replied Puss, Junior. ‘‘Little Red Riding Hood got close to me. She trembled and shook, she was so frightened. The big gray wolf came closer and closer, and when he got so near that I could feel his hot breath I swung my trusty staff and hit him a blow on the head. ‘Run! run!’ I shouted to Red Riding Hood, and she ran away like the wind. “The wolf was badly stunned by the blow, and 130 ANOTHER STORY before he could get on his feet I hit him again. Then I turned and ran after Red Riding Hood, and when I caught up to her we were nearly out of the forest and not far from her house.” “My!” said the little boy, drawing a long breath, “that was brave! Is that why somebody gave you a sword? ” “Not exactly,” replied Puss, Junior. “My Lord of Carabas presented me with this weapon.” And Puss unsheathed his sword. “This is much better than my old staff, but in those days I didn’t know much about swords, so I got along very well with what I had.” As Puss finished the story the black sheep said, “I must go back to the meadow, so I will say good-by for the present.” And he trotted off up the lane. “We must be on our way, too,” said Puss, Junior, but the little boy begged so hard for another story that Puss sat down again. JUST ONE MORE STORY “npELL me just one more story,” pleaded the A little boy. “It’s getting late; we should be on our way,” cautioned Tom Thumb. And the blackbird re- marked that the day would soon be over; but Puss, Junior, couldn’t resist the pleading voice of the little boy. “One day I met the cow that jumped over the moon in a meadow full of cowslips and daisies. The cat who played on the fiddle, and the little dog who laughed at the sport, and the dish that ran away with the spoon were there, too, and up in the sky the big yellow moon, although one doesn’t often see the moon in the daytime. Well, as soon as the cat commenced to play ‘Hey- diddle-diddle’ the cow began to prance. And after a little practice she gave a tremendous jump. Up and up she went in the air until she went clear over the moon.” “Oh my!” cried the little boy, clasping his hands together, “wasn’t that funny? Wasn’t it wonderful?” “I thought so,” said Puss. “I never really understood just how she did do it.” “If she had wings it would have been quite 132 JUST ONE MORE STORY simple,” said the blackbird; “but she didn't, did she?” “I couldn't see any,” said Puss. “I told her that it was a wonderful feat. But she said it wasn't feet at all, so perhaps she had wings that were invisible.” 133 PUSS IN BOOTS, JR., AND TOM THUMB “I’ve heard of flying fish, but not flying cows,” said Tom Thumb, gravely. “I think it was all right,” said the little boy. “She was a jumping cow. I guess she was a wonderful jumper. Perhaps the moon wasn’t very high up.” “Well, no, it wasn’t,” said Puss, Junior, thoughtfully. “Now that I come to think of it, the moon hung pretty low, for I heard the man in the moon call out as she came close to him, ‘Look out, and don't clip off a piece with your hoofs,’ and if it had been very high up I never could have heard his voice, I’m sure.” “I wish I’d been there,” said the little boy. “What wonderful things you have seen, dear Puss.” “Yes, I suppose I have,'’ he answered; “but, you know, you get so used to strange sights and strange people that you don't wonder so much after a while. You get worldly, my boy.” And Puss, Junior, curled his whiskers gracefully up at the ends. And some day, in another book, Puss, Junior, will relate more of his adventures. THE END