of his badness compared with those
good little mice!

When the tailor awoke in the
morning, the first thing which he saw,
upon the patchwork quilt, was a skein
of cherry-coloured twisted silk, and
beside his bed stood the repentant
Simpkin!


The sun was shining on the snow
when the tailor got up and dressed,
and came out into the street with
Simpkin running before him.

"Alack," said the tailor, "I have my
twist; but no more strength--nor
time--than will serve to make me one
single buttonhole; for this is
Christmas Day in the Morning! The
Mayor of Gloucester shall be married
by noon--and where is his cherry-
coloured coat?"

He unlocked the door of the little
shop in Westgate Street, and Simpkin
ran in, like a cat that expects
something.