The whole hedge was a scene of jubilation and the mouse was the gladdest of them all, for it was her doing. Or perhaps the fool’s-parsley and the goat’s-foot were gladder still, for they would now have that family-life in their tops which they had so often longed for and which would raise them to the level of the real bushes. As for the twigs on the old stubs, they were infected with the universal joy and forgot their envy.
The wedding took place forthwith, for there was nothing to wait for. The parsley and the goat’s-foot scattered their white flowers on every side to mark the festival. The mouse dragged her little ones up the hedge so that they might see the happy bridal pair; the bluebell rang, the poppy laughed and the bindweed closed her petals half an hour earlier than usual so as not to embarrass the newly-married couple with a misplaced curiosity.
The bride ate all the flies that she had spun up, without offering the bridegroom one. But that did not matter, for he was up to the throat in happiness, so he could not have got a morsel down in any case. He made himself as small as possible. Once, when she stroked him on the back with one of her combs, he shook till they thought that he would die.
6
The mouse was astir early next morning:
“Have you seen nothing of the young couple?” she asked.
“No,” said the parsley.
“They’re asleep,” said the goat’s-foot.
“Ah!” said the mouse. “What a good thing that we got her married at last. Now you’ll see how sweet and amiable she will become. There is no end to the wonders that love can work. And when the children come!...”
“Do you think she’ll sing then?” asked the goat’s-foot.