"I'm going," said Froggy, "to see the pretty little Widow Mousey, who lives in that snug cottage yonder. Pray come with me, for I feel rather bashful at going by myself."
"With all my heart," replied Mr. Rat; and off they went together.
They soon arrived at the cottage; and the Rat having given a loud knock, while the Frog gave a loud "Croak," Mrs. Mousey put away her spinning-wheel in a great hurry, and admitted her guests.
"Good morning, Mrs. Mouse," said the Frog; "we were out walking, and thought we would give you a call."
"You are very kind, I am sure," replied Mrs. Mousey. "Pray sit down and rest yourselves; I dare say you are tired."
"And here—I say—squeak!—Mrs. Mousey—some beer!—We're thirsty," said Mr. Rat.
"Croak—let's enjoy ourselves while we can," observed the Frog.
"Certainly," said Mousey. "I'll draw you some of the last brew."
So Mousey drew some beer, and they sat down very cosily; and soon were chatting so comfortably, that Master Froggy thought he should soon get rid of his bashfulness, and then should be able to ask pretty Mrs. Mousey to marry him. Presently their little hostess proposed a song, and called upon Froggy to oblige; but, "Really," he replied, "I must be excused, for the fog last night gave me such a cold that I'm as hoarse as a hog." He didn't forget that he had been singing "Rowley, powley," as he came along, but he was afraid that his voice was not good enough for his company.
"Well," said Mousey, laughing, "I am sorry for that; but if you won't sing, I will."