The convalescent Rats all sat in a row upon a circular bench, still holding between their fingers the musical instruments which now lacked mouthpieces.

To distract their thoughts some charming young girls of the country, dressed in fine and beautifully embroidered stuffs, began to dance and juggle for their amusement.

Some of the dances were very complicated and elaborate; but some, on the other hand, were so simple that the performers had no need to exert themselves at all. They merely seated themselves upon the ground and sniffed luxuriously at jasmine and heliotrope blossoms. This dance was so simple that it was not necessary for there to be any dancers.

After several of these simple and extremely comfortable dances the Rats begged the young girls to play a game of tennis.

Accordingly eight of the most accomplished players arranged themselves about the court, and at each corner they placed two teacups to hold the balls.

Thus there were eight teacups.

The court was divided by a rose-coloured ribbon.

Four players arranged themselves on either side of the ribbon, each standing behind the other.

The two leaders in each group held rackets made of vermicelli, while the two couples standing behind held rackets made of stretched parchment.

The game was about to begin.

Two accordion-players began to play a quadrille.

The Rats licked their chops and, pulling at their moustaches, strutted about full of joy.

Two chariots, filled with a pearly and transparent paste, were brought up, and several dancers taking long pipes began rapidly to make balls of it, and to blow them at the rackets; the paste seemed to be of some sugary substance, and if they blew too hard the balls exploded without leaving so much as a trace.

Several balls vanished in this way.

Then a pretty blue ball, spangled with gold, hit one of the vermicelli rackets. The ball went right through the racket; but since it had lost velocity, it hung motionless in mid-air.

While the ball was hanging thus, the two players who had the rackets of parchment tossed up to decide which of the two should send the ball back.

This fell to the part of the fair girl, who advanced with the stately steps of a quadrille, while the ball hung awaiting her, and with one short stroke she hit it towards one of the teacups.

The ball rushed forward undeviatingly; but, as it neared the cup, its speed slackened so as not to break it. Finally it crept in as gently as a baby is put in a cradle.

"For you, Vera, for you," cried the fair girl who had hit the ball.

"Thank you, my love," replied she who had been called Vera.

And thus the game went on; whenever a girl hit one of the balls hanging in mid-air she cried out the name of the friend to whom she offered it.

By this ingenious method, without disputes or complications, the eight cups received each its ball, and when the game was over Vera took her ball, Dorothea hers, Simonetta hers, and so on, until each girl had her ball.

They then all embraced, and twining their arms about each other began to go back along the road down which they had arrived.

When they passed by Smaly, who was still standing at the door of the kitchen, he demanded:

"But who won?"

The young girls were quite unable to understand what this question meant. They smiled divinely at him with their delicately curved mouths, then each one showed him her ball made of pearly sugar.