Saturday: and this is Tuesday evening. Was it right to let loose those
mice, undoubtedly the property of Simpkin? Alack, I am undone, for I have
no more twist!"

The little mice came out again, and listened to the tailor; they took
notice of the pattern of that wonderful coat. They whispered to one
another about the taffeta lining, and about little mouse tippets.

And then all at once they all ran away together down the passage behind
the wainscot, squeaking and calling to one another, as they ran from house
to house; and not one mouse was left in the tailor's kitchen when Simpkin
came back with the pipkin of milk!

[Illustration]

Simpkin opened the door and bounced in, with an angry "G-r-r-miaw!" like a
cat that is vexed: for he hated the snow, and there was snow in his ears,
and snow in his collar at the back of his neck. He put down the loaf and
the sausages upon the dresser, and sniffed.

"Simpkin," said the tailor, "where is my twist?"

But Simpkin set down the pipkin of milk upon the dresser, and looked
suspiciously at the tea-cups. He wanted his supper of little fat mouse!

"Simpkin," said the tailor, "where is my TWIST?"

[Illustration]

But Simpkin hid a little parcel privately in the tea-pot, and spit and