He had an enormous mouth. Master Meadow Mouse shivered slightly as he looked down Mr. Frog's throat.
The tailor closed his mouth almost immediately. For a huge pickerel came nosing among the lily pads. And spying Mr. Frog, he at once darted towards him.
Mr. Frog swam off in great haste.
"That Pickerel person," said Mr. Meadow Mouse aloud, "means to take Mr. Frog's measure if he can."
During his first summer in Pleasant Valley Master Meadow Mouse had often noticed old Mr. Crow flying from the woods to the cornfield. Once in a while Mr. Crow dropped down into the meadow on some business or other. But Master Meadow Mouse did not fear him. The grass was high in the meadow, screening the goings and comings of Master Meadow Mouse from prying eyes.
But after haying time the meadow was a different place. There was no cover over Master Meadow Mouse's paths. He had to be watchful all the time, because Henry Hawk had an unpleasant habit of sailing high up in the sky and dropping down like lightning when he saw anybody like Master Meadow Mouse stirring.
Old Mr. Crow continued to journey daily between the cornfield and the woods. But Master Meadow Mouse paid little heed to him. He believed Mr. Crow to be harmless, so long as he didn't catch small folk in the cornfield. The old gentleman was very touchy about corn. He flew into a rage when anybody but himself ate even one kernel.
Though Master Meadow Mouse would have liked a taste of corn as much as anybody else, he was careful to keep away from the cornfield in the daytime. He didn't wish to bring down Mr. Crow's wrath upon his small head.