Richards Laura Elizabeth Howe - Five Mice in a Mouse-trap, by the Man in the Moon. стр 23.

All was ready now. The twins were called, and came back laden with flowers; Nibble came with his coffee-pot, and the grand feast began in earnest. Dear! dear! how good everything looked! chicken pie and smoked tongue and sandwiches, and chocolate custard in a pitcher, and everything else that you can think of. I never have chicken pie up here, because there are no chickens, but I think it must be very nice, and it was very evident that the mice thought so. Uncle Jack carved and helped, and everybody ate and drank and chattered merrily. My brother Sun smiled at them, and sent millions of sunbeams, twinkling and sparkling over the grass and dancing on the ripples of the brook; and when they were too warm, hosts of merry Winds came flying, and fanned them and kissed them. Among them were the seven little fellows who had blown Nibble and Brighteyes to China, and they whispered, "Dear little Heavy-Ones; will you take another flying-trip with us?" but the children did not hear nor heed them, so nothing further was said.

When the feast was over, there was a grand washing of spoons and forks, and a putting away of what was good and throwing away of what was bad. Then came blind-man's-buff, and hide-and-seek, and all manner of games; and then more paddling and tumbling in the brook, splashing and dashing, "for all the world like the forty little ducklings!" Uncle Jack said. "Oh! tell us about the little ducklings!" cried all the mice. And they climbed up the bank and sat down in a circle round their uncle, holding up their wet feet to dry in the sun. "About the ducklings, eh?" said Uncle Jack, "well, let me see if I can remember."

"There!" said Uncle Jack, "weren't they funny ducklings?" "Yes!" said Puff; "is it true, Uncle?" "Part of it is," replied Uncle Jack. "It is true about the ducklings running away, and about the farmer's finding them. I know the farmer. His name is Mr. Thomas Burnham, and a very good farmer he is. But I did not see him put the mustard plasters on their feet, so I cannot tell about that." "Then tell us something else, please!" cried Brighteyes. "No! no!" said Uncle Jack; "it is six o'clock, you bad children! Once upon a time there were five little mice, and it was time for them to go home. That is the only story I can tell you now."

Well, to be sure, it did seem a shame to go home, just when everything was so lovely. But Downy was beginning to rub his eyes as if my friend the Sand-man had been blowing into them, and the shadows were lengthening, and Brother Sun was beginning to call his beams home. So the mice bade farewell to the lovely glen, and the merry brook, and trotted up the mossy path as cheerfully, if not as quickly as they had trotted down it. Harum-scarum and flyaway my mice certainly are, but they are almost always cheerful and obedient, and that is a great thing. Primrose and Violet and the rest looked after them, and said, "God bless their merry hearts!" then they curled down under their leaves and went to sleep, for it was high time. The brook sang its sweetest good-bye song, as it hurried away toward the sea, to tell the gossipping waves what a delightful afternoon it had passed; and as if in answer to the song, I heard Puff and Fluff singing merrily, as the carriage rolled away:

CHAPTER X. THE CARRIAGE CLOUD

"We have had a very melancholy day, Mr. Moonman!" replied Fluff, "Vashti Ann has been hanged, and it is a terrible thing to hang your own child, even if Nibble does it for you." "Vashti Ann hanged!" I exclaimed. "Dear! dear! how very distressing! what had she done, pray, and how did it all happen?" "We don't think she meant to do it," said Puff gravely; "but Nibble said she ought to be hanged all the same. You see, we had just dressed the baby" "and she was Vashti Ann's own child!" Fluff broke in impressively.