There was great rejoicing among all the Mouse family. Pudgy Mr. Moses Mouse had picked up a bit of news that delighted him and his wife and all their many relations. Somebody had stolen Miss Snooper—as the Mouse family always called Miss Kitty Cat! Somebody had taken her away!

Master Meadow Mouse had seen it all; and he had told Moses exactly how it happened. Master Meadow Mouse knew that a wagon had borne Miss Snooper up the road and over the hill. He had watched it disappear, with his own eyes. All thosep. 81 things Moses Mouse repeated as fast as his short breath would permit. He had hurried back home to tell the news as soon as he had heard it. He found, however, that no one cared how Miss Kitty Cat (or Miss Snooper), went, nor where; no one cared who took her; no one cared when. It was enough to know that she was gone. And everybody exclaimed that it was the best news ever—and good riddance to bad rubbish—meaning Miss Kitty Cat.

If it were only true! The Mouse family scarcely dared believe that it was. But when two days passed, and Moses Mouse himself had even ventured into the pantry, and the kitchen, and the woodshed, without meeting Miss Kitty, the Mouse family dared decide that she had indeed gone for good.

Meanwhile Miss Kitty Cat was having ap. 82 most unhappy time. It was true that she had been stolen. A man driving a peddler's wagon up the hill one evening had noticed her as she lay on top of the stone wall, around the turn of the road beyond the farmhouse. "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!" he called, as he stopped his horse. And reaching behind the seat, he brought out a bit of food, which he held out for her.

Now, it happened that at that very moment Miss Kitty Cat had her mind on food. She had been hoping that a meal would appear at any moment out of a chink in the wall. And when it was dangled right before her eyes like that she couldn't resist it. She climbed up into the wagon. And the next thing she knew the peddler had clapped her into a basket and fastened the cover. Miss Kitty Cat was a prisoner.

"There, my beauty!" the peddler exp. 83claimed. "I'll take you home with me. We need a mouser. And I dare say you're a good one. Unless I'm mistaken, you were hunting chipmunks on the wall."

Miss Kitty Cat made no answer. Naturally, it pleased her to be called a beauty. But there were other matters that she didn't like in the least. Her captor had forgotten to toss the scrap of meat into the basket—the bait with which he had caught her. And it was somewhat breathless inside her prison. And Miss Kitty Cat had no idea where the peddler was taking her.

He had clucked to his horse and started him plodding up the hill. Every time a wheel struck a stone Miss Kitty gritted her teeth. She never did enjoy riding in a wagon, anyhow. And this one was not at all comfortable.p. 84

"They'll wonder, back home, what's become of me," she thought. "And one thing is certain: everybody will miss me!"

p. 85