The kind Mouse agreed, but the Cat slunk under the town wall to
the church, and ate up half of the pot of fat. 'Nothing tastes
better,' said she, 'than what one eats by oneself,' and she was
very much pleased with her day's work. When she came home the
Mouse asked, 'What was this child called?'

'Half Gone,' answered the Cat.

'Halfgone! what a name! I have never heard it in my life. I
don't believe it is in the calendar.'

Soon the Cat's mouth began to water once more after her licking
business. 'All good things in threes,' she said to the Mouse; 'I
have again to stand godmother. The child is quite black, and has
very white paws, but not a single white hair on its body. This
only happens once in two years, so you will let me go out?'

'Topoff! Halfgone!' repeated the Mouse, 'they are such curious
names; they make me very thoughtful.'

'Oh, you sit at home in your dark grey coat and your long tail,'
said the Cat, 'and you get fanciful. That comes of not going out
in the day.'

The Mouse had a good cleaning out while the Cat was gone, and
made the house tidy; but the greedy Cat ate the fat every bit up.

'When it is all gone one can be at rest,' she said to herself,
and at night she came home sleek and satisfied. The Mouse asked
at once after the third child's name.