“A baby’s crib is a strange thing to go to sea in; why not in a boat? or in a tub? or even on a board? Why go to sea at all, when there is plenty of ground, and when cats hate water? And as for that other cat, why had she not common sense? She needed common sense. Every cat needs common sense.”
“I can tell your majesty in a few words why the cat that hadn’t common sense hadn’t common sense,” replied Pussyanita. “It was because she lost it. Do you ask how? I answer by a looking-glass and a clock.
“When quite young she looked in a looking-glass and saw herself there, and thought it was another cat staring at her, and got mad at that other cat, and flew at it, and broke the glass, and frightened herself so that she ran all over the house and when she came to the clock the clock door was open and she jumped in. The clock door got shut and she had long to stay there, and the noises in the clock almost made her crazy, and she never had common sense afterwards. This tells why the cat that hadn’t common sense hadn’t common sense,” continued Pussyanita; “but to tell all about Black Velvet, and how it happened that she was blown off a tree in a whirlwind, why she went to sea at all when there was plenty of ground and cats hate water, will take a longer time than I have to live.”
“Time shall be granted you,” cried King Grimalkum. “Go on! go on at once!”
The lovely Pussyanita then went on, and went on at once, to tell the Story of Black Velvet as told by herself at Lady Yellow-paw’s famous party.
The Story of Black Velvet.
“I was born in a barn. My brothers and sisters were born in the same place. There were four of us, all of the same age and size. As soon as we could run our mother took us all over the great barn-country. She did everything for our good. She showed us the holes and told us which were mouse-holes and which were rat-holes. She showed us how to spring and how to catch, and how to hold. She brought us many kinds of eatable bugs and taught us to snap at flies and to beware of wasps. At night she went forth to hunt for us the slippery mole which slips so swiftly through the grass. At day she purred us sweetly to sleep, or sometimes she let us go with her to the wheatfields and get a peep at the moles and watch the field mice running up and down the wheat stalks.
