upon a neck.

Puss hardly knew what to make of it now, and sat up stiffly, as if
watching with some suspicion what would come next.

Claus knew. The head gave him an idea. He plied his knife carefully
and with skill, forming slowly the body of the cat, which he made to
sit upon its haunches as the real cat did, with her tail wound around
her two front legs.

The work cost him much time, but the evening was long and he had
nothing better to do. Finally he gave a loud and delighted laugh at
the result of his labors and placed the wooden cat, now completed,
upon the hearth opposite the real one.

Puss thereupon glared at her image, raised her hair in anger, and
uttered a defiant mew. The wooden cat paid no attention, and Claus,
much amused, laughed again.

Then Blinkie advanced toward the wooden image to eye it closely and
smell of it intelligently: Eyes and nose told her the creature was
wood, in spite of its natural appearance; so puss resumed her seat and
her purring, but as she neatly washed her face with her padded paw she
cast more than one admiring glance at her clever master. Perhaps she
felt the same satisfaction we feel when we look upon good photographs
of ourselves.

The cat's master was himself pleased with his handiwork, without
knowing exactly why. Indeed, he had great cause to congratulate
himself that night, and all the children throughout the world should