A certain cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said
so much to her about the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at
length the mouse agreed that they should live and keep house together. 'But we
must make a provision for winter, or else we shall suffer from hunger,' said
the cat; 'and you, little mouse, cannot venture everywhere, or you will be
caught in a trap some day.' The good advice was followed, and a pot of fat was
bought, but they did not know where to put it. At length, after much
consideration, the cat said: 'I know no place where it will be better stored up
than in the church, for no one dares take anything away from there. We will set
it beneath the altar, and not touch it until we are really in need of it.' So
the pot was placed in safety, but it was not long before the cat had a great
yearning for it, and said to the mouse: 'I want to tell you something, little
mouse; my cousin has brought a little son into the world, and has asked me to
be godmother; he is white with brown spots, and I am to hold him over the font
at the christening. Let me go out today, and you look after the house by
yourself.' 'Yes, yes,' answered the mouse, 'by all means go, and if you get
anything very good to eat, think of me. I should like a drop of sweet red christening
wine myself.' All this, however, was untrue; the cat had no cousin, and had not
been asked to be godmother. She went straight to the church, stole to the pot
of fat, began to lick at it, and licked the top of the fat off. Then she took a
walk upon the roofs of the town, looked out for opportunities, and then
stretched herself in the sun, and licked her lips whenever she thought of the
pot of fat, and not until it was evening did she return home. 'Well, here you
are again,' said the mouse, 'no doubt you have had a merry day.' 'All went off
well,' answered the cat. 'What name did they give the child?' 'Top off!' said the
cat quite coolly. 'Top off!' cried the mouse, 'that is a very odd and uncommon
name, is it an usual one in your family?' 'What does that matter,' said the
cat, 'it is no worse than Crumb-stealer, as your godchildren are called.'
Before long the cat was seized by another fit of yearning. She
said to the mouse: 'You must do me a favour, and once more manage the house for
a day alone. I am again asked to be godmother, and, as the child has a white
ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.' The good mouse consented, but the cat
crept behind the town walls to the church, and devoured half the pot of fat.
'Nothing ever seems so good as what one keeps to oneself,' said she, and was
quite satisfied with her day's work. When she went home the mouse inquired:
'And what was the child christened?' 'Half-done,' answered the cat. 'Half-done!
What are you saying? I never heard the name in my life, I'll wager anything it
is not in the calendar!'
The cat's mouth soon began to water for some more licking. 'All
good things go in threes,' said she, 'I am asked to stand godmother again. The child is quite black, only it has
white paws, but with that exception, it has not a single white hair on its whole
body; this only happens once every few years, you will let me go, won't you?'
'Top- off! Half-done!' answered the mouse, 'they are such odd names, they make
me very thoughtful.' 'You sit at home,' said the cat, 'in your dark-grey fur
coat and long tail, and are filled with fancies, that's because you do not go
out in the daytime.' During the cat's absence the mouse cleaned the house, and
put it in order, but the greedy cat entirely emptied the pot of fat. 'When
everything is eaten up one has some peace,' said she to herself, and well filled
and fat she did not return home till night. The mouse at once asked what name
had been given to the third child. 'It will not please you more than the
others,' said the cat. 'He is called All-gone.' 'All-gone,' cried the mouse
'that is the most suspicious name of all! I have never seen it in print.
All-gone; what can that mean?' and she shook her head, curled herself up, and
lay down to sleep.
From this time forth no one invited the cat to be godmother, but
when the winter had come and there was no longer anything to be found outside,
the mouse thought of their provision, and said: 'Come, cat, we will go to our pot
of fat which we have stored up for ourselves—we shall enjoy that.' 'Yes,'
answered the cat, 'you will enjoy it as much as you would enjoy sticking that
dainty tongue of yours out of the window.' They set out on their way, but when
they arrived, the pot of fat certainly was still in its place, but it was
empty. 'Alas!' said the mouse, 'now I see what has happened, now it comes to
light! You a true friend! You have devoured all when you were standing
godmother. First top off, then half-done, then--' 'Will you hold your tongue,'
cried the cat, 'one word more, and I will eat you too.' 'All-gone' was already
on the poor mouse's lips; scarcely had she spoken it before the cat sprang on
her, seized her, and swallowed her down. Verily, that is the way of the world.
