PUSSY CAT, PUSSY CAT
"The man who loses his opportunity loses himself"
Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, where have you been?"
I've been to London to visit the Queen."
Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, what did you there?"
I frightened a little mouse under her chair."
You would never think to look at Thomas now, as he lies blinking in front of the fire, that he once had the chance of being King of England!
To us, Thomas only looks like an ordinary, sleek, well-fed, tabby cat. But then, you see, you don't know Thomas' Private History. Thomas himself is usually too sleepy to think about his early adventures now, but time was, when the mere mention of the Queen's name, would start him off purring at the thought of what might have been!
It was a long time ago, when Thomas was just emerging from the kitten stage, that his Private History really began. It started one evening when mother was reading the children the story of the White Cat in front of the nursery fire before they went to bed. Thomas, who had been more than usually frisky all day, was taking a little repose on the hearthrug, and as the story was about a cat, had condescended to listen.
You all know the story—how the White Cat, though in the form of a cat, was really a princess, and how she married the prince, and changed back into a princess at last.
Thomas listened enthralled, and from the moment the story ended, his Private History began.
For, at the close of the story, Thomas had quite come to the conclusion that he, too, was no ordinary cat. No! As the White Cat in the story was really a princess, Thomas was now convinced that he was really a prince, and only waiting to marry a princess, or better still, a Queen, to show himself in his true guise.
It was soon after this idea entered his head that Thomas became almost intolerable.
The airs he assumed! The graces he put on! The arts he practised! The condescension of his smile! The upward tilt of his nose! The twirl of his moustachios! The defiant angle of his tail!
He began, also, to exercise his voice at night. "Practising serenades," was how he described it to the stable cat, for whom he had the utmost contempt, though he was not above showing off his fine person in front of her now and then.
It was about this time, too, that Thomas started on a long series of nightly prowls. "Quests of adventure," was how he described them. He also developed a habit of strolling in about breakfast time, and listening to Papa reading aloud the morning paper; but it was only in the Court news that he really took any interest. From this he gathered that it was in London that the Queen lived, and he became filled with a burning desire to go to London. Accordingly he made himself more than usually agreeable to the family, in the hopes that they would take him with them when they paid their yearly visit to town.
All this, of course, was Thomas' Private History at this time. To the family he was only known as "an excellent mouser," and "so good with the children."
This troubled Thomas not a little.
It also troubled him that he was so exceedingly fond of mice.
He far preferred them to milk, which was a much more princely diet. Once, even, the idea just crossed his mind, that, as he was so fond of mice, perhaps he wasn't a prince after all, but only an ordinary tabby cat. This thought he thrust from him with a flick of his tail.
"Just wait till I get to London," he said to himself. "When the Queen sees me she will at once recognise me for what I am," and he twitched his nose contemptuously at the stable cat who was just crossing the yard.
The next day the family went up to London. Thomas, to his great delight, was taken too. "He is such an excellent mouser," Papa had said, and the children, "Oh we can't leave Thomas, he is such a darling."
This had annoyed Thomas, and hurt his dignity. So, just before starting, he went out to say good-bye to the stable cat.
"Good-bye," he said. "I don't suppose you will see me again, or if you do, I don't suppose you will recognise me. I am going up to London to marry the Queen."
The stable cat expressed no surprise at this remarkable statement. She merely winked her yellow eyes and answered nothing.
"I suppose she thinks I am too fine to be spoken to by such as she!" said Thomas to himself as he stalked away.
The journey up to London was certainly not a success as far as Thomas was concerned.
He was put in a basket. This he considered undignified, as well as uncomfortable, and he took no pains to conceal his feelings. He scratched and spluttered at the side of the basket, and uttered his opinion of the family with no uncertain voice. But nobody paid any attention to him.
"Very well," he cried at last. "When I am King of England you won't put me in a basket any more. The next time I go on a journey, it will be in a coach and four."
Then he started thinking of how many mice he had caught last week, and this thought comforted him so much that he curled round and went to sleep for the rest of the journey.
The evening after they arrived, one of the young ladies of the family was to go and see the Queen. Thomas privately decided to go with her.
He did not tell her he was coming too.
"Though, of course, if she knew I was her future King, she would be only too delighted to be going with me," he thought. "All the same, I think I will go quite quietly without any fuss, there will be plenty of time for that afterwards."
He assisted while the young lady was being dressed. She looked very beautiful, with a long train, and feathers in her hair, and a sheaf of lilies in her arms.
"Just like a fairy princess," thought Thomas.
She went downstairs. Thomas followed her. She got into her carriage. Thomas, concealed by her train, crept in too.
"I thought Thomas got in with me," she said anxiously.
But Thomas hid himself under the seat. When they arrived at the door of the palace, she alighted, and Thomas got out after her.
The crowd was so occupied in gazing at the young lady's beauty that they never looked at Thomas at all.
This annoyed him. He was almost inclined to mew with vexation.
"Never mind," he consoled himself, "she, poor girl, has only this one chance of being looked at, but everyone will always be looking at me when I am King of England," so he refrained from mewing.
The young lady walked in through the folding doors. Thomas followed, still concealed by the folds of her train.
They went along what seemed to Thomas miles and miles of red carpet, and were finally ushered, through a great door, into a great room. Thomas disengaged himself from the young lady's train and sniffed, just to show that he was quite at home.
That sniff was fatal, for he scented a mouse somewhere!
The room was hung with red and gold, and surrounded with glittering mirrors. There was a rustle of silks and satins. On every side were court lords and ladies dressed in all their gorgeous splendour. Fans fluttered, feathers nodded, diamonds sparkled in all directions. Over all floated a strain of delicious dreamy music. At the end of the long room, up six red-carpeted steps was the Queen's golden chair of state. On it sat the Queen herself, smiling graciously. She was dressed in white and blazing with jewels, and she had a crown of gold upon her head.
It was Thomas' great opportunity! Who knows but that if he had walked sedately up to the Queen and asked her hand in marriage that she might not have consented, and then he might have turned into a Prince, and been King of England! Yes, it was certainly Thomas' opportunity.
That fatal sniff!
He never saw the splendid room. He never saw the beautiful ladies and the gorgeous dresses. Worse than all, he never saw the Queen herself at all. All thoughts of being a Prince had flown out of his head. As though he had been bewitched, he had only one idea.
There was a mouse somewhere!
He was no longer Thomas the Prince in Disguise, he was only Thomas "the good mouser."
He crept forward cautiously, sniffing as he went, and slid noiselessly up to the Queen's great chair. Yes, there was the mouse peeping out from behind one of the golden legs. Thomas sprang forward.
"What is that cat doing here?" called out the Queen. "Send him out of the room immediately."
A dozen hands were stretched forward to seize the unfortunate Thomas. He saw the mouse run like a dart towards a hole in the wall. He dashed after it.
Then ensued such a hue and cry as never was seen. People rushed here, and rushed there, and stepped on each other's toes, and tore each other's gowns. Several ladies fainted, and everyone hurried in pursuit of Thomas.
He ran this way and that, and turned and twisted himself in every direction. At last he found himself near the door, and slipped out with the whole crowd after him. He ran and ran till he had outdistanced them all, and even then he still ran on from mere fright.
It was a very draggled and dishevelled Thomas that appeared next morning at the stable door of his old home in the country.
"Hm, I thought so," said the old stable cat when she at last recognised him. "Cat you were born, and cat you will remain all the rest of your days. King of England indeed!"
Thomas has no Private History now.