They had got hold of the waste-paper basket.
Tompkins was a little shy at first, but he soon felt at home with the strange kittens and tore the paper as fiercely as the others. The basket, too, seemed made to be played with. They pretended it was a cage, and one of the kittens got inside and growled so fiercely like a wild beast that Tompkins was almost afraid. At last, when it was upside down and the papers scattered all over the room the kittens began to think they would like a little rest.
They all stared at each other for a bit till Tompkins thought it was time some one made a little conversation.
“What are your names?” he asked.
The kittens looked rather confused and didn’t know what to answer, for somehow no one had thought of christening them. However, they were not going to let a stranger know this, so the prettiest said, “I am generally called ‘Pussy,’ and this”—here she pointed to the kitten next to her—“is ‘Pet.’ Her real name is Perfect-Pet, but we call her Pet for short.”
“And what is your name?” Tompkins asked the third kitten. He, however, pretended not to hear and busied himself running after his own tail, which he caught so unexpectedly that it made him sit down with a bump.
“I can tell you his name,” cried Pussy; “he has been called ‘Ugly,’ and I think it rather suits him, don’t you?”