"The Giants have a bath every morning," said Limpy-toes. "Granny
Whiskers says so, and of course Granny knows."

"A bath every morning!" cried Silver Ears. "Just think of that."

"Just imagine it!" drawled Buster.

"Well, they must be very dirty children," decided Mother Graymouse.
"A bath every morning! I'd be ashamed if my children could not keep
clean longer than that. Ruth Giant isn't a bit cleaner, sweeter, nor
daintier than my pretty Silver Ears, if I do say so, as shouldn't."

"I'm not a thief either, Mammy," sobbed Silver Ears.

"When that Maid Norah goes about killing flies by the dozens, does
she call herself a murderer?" demanded Mother Graymouse with
indignation. "When that old black Tom gobbles up an innocent mouse
for his supper, does she call him a murdering beast? Neither are we
thieves," went on Mother Graymouse hotly. "Even mice must live, and
unless we eat we will surely die. It is very ill-natured of the
Giants to begrudge us the few poor scraps that we are able to pick
up. But don't ever let me hear of your eating any cake again, Silver
Ears, even if it is stuffed with jam, without first showing it to
me," she finished in a severe tone.

"But, Mammy, I'm sure Ruth Giant would not give me cake that was not
fit to eat."

Then Mother Graymouse drew up the five little red-painted stools in a