But it was all untrue. The Cat had no cousin, and had not been
asked to be godmother. She went straight to the church, slunk to
the little pot of fat, began to lick it, and licked the top off.
Then she took a walk on the roofs of the town, looked at the
view, stretched herself out in the sun, and licked her lips
whenever she thought of the little pot of fat. As soon as it was
evening she went home again.

'Ah, here you are again!' said the Mouse; 'you must certainly
have had an enjoyable day.'

'It went off very well,' answered the Cat.

'What was the child's name?' asked the Mouse.

'Top Off,' said the Cat drily.

'Topoff!' echoed the Mouse, 'it is indeed a wonderful and curious
name. Is it in your family?'

'What is there odd about it?' said the Cat. 'It is not worse
than Breadthief, as your godchild is called.'

Not long after this another great longing came over the Cat. She
said to the Mouse, 'You must again be kind enough to look after
the house alone, for I have been asked a second time to stand
godmother, and as this child has a white ring round its neck, I
cannot refuse.'