"Let me carry the cradle," said Puss, and lifting it on his shoulder, followed the grateful little woman down the road.
When they reached the house Puss was tired, for the cradle was heavy, and had nearly slipped off his shoulder two or three times, and once, when the baby caught hold of it, Puss nearly stumbled.
"Come and rest," said the baby's mother, opening the little wicket gate in the white fence. Puss looked up at the pretty porch, covered with a honeysuckle vine. "Thank you," he answered, "I will," and he set the cradle down on the floor.
"Please look after the baby," said the little mother, "while I get the supper?"
"I'll try," said Puss, "but I'm not used to babies, and perhaps he'll roll off the porch."
"Oh, you can keep him from doing that," replied the little mother, "he's the best baby in the world!" So Puss sat down and played with him for almost half an hour. By and by a little bird began to sing:
"Dance to your daddie,
My bonnie laddie;
Dance to your daddie, my bonnie lamb.
You shall get a fishy
On a little dishy;
You shall get a fishy when the boat comes home."
Pretty soon after that the little mother carried the baby into the house.