"Not unless you promise to leave this house," replied Puss, fiercely, his whiskers standing out straight and his eyes glaring like two balls of fire.
"We will, we will!" squeaked the rats.
"Then go!" cried Puss, "and don't you ever come back!"
"We won't, we won't!" cried the terrified rats.
And after that Puss softly crept into the kitchen, where on the table sat three little mice eating a piece of cake. In a second Puss had them fast in his claws.
"Squeak, squeak!" screamed the little mice.
"I'll spare you," said Puss, glaring at them with eyes as bright as automobile lamps. "I'll let you go if you'll promise to leave this house with all your sisters and brothers and cousins and aunts and fathers and mothers and grandmothers and grandfathers, and all your friends, and everybody else that I can't think of, for I'm so mad I could eat you."
"Oh don't," they cried; "we'll go, we'll go! We'll promise to leave."
And after that the little old man was never bothered with rats and mice.