something _most delicious_.

"I will come very punctually, my dear Ribby," wrote Duchess; and then
at the end she added--"I hope it isn't mouse?"

[Illustration: THE INVITATION]

And then she thought that did not look quite polite; so she scratched
out "isn't mouse" and changed it to "I hope it will be fine," and
she gave her letter to the postman.

But she thought a great deal about Ribby's pie, and she read Ribby's
letter over and over again.

"I am dreadfully afraid it _will_ be mouse!" said Duchess to
herself--"I really couldn't, _couldn't_ eat mouse pie. And I shall have
to eat it, because it is a party. And _my_ pie was going to be veal
and ham. A pink and white pie-dish! and so is mine; just like Ribby's
dishes; they were both bought at Tabitha Twitchit's."

Duchess went into her larder and took the pie off a shelf and looked
at it.

[Illustration]

"It is all ready to put into the oven. Such lovely pie-crust; and I
put in a little tin patty-pan to hold up the crust; and I made a hole
in the middle with a fork to let out the steam--Oh I do wish I could
eat my own pie, instead of a pie made of mouse!"