"Tell me how you and Tom became fellow travelers," said the girl, taking Tom up in her hand and placing him on her knee.
"Willingly," said Puss, stroking his whiskers and curling his great mustache, "and should I make a mistake in the telling Tom may correct me.
"When I left my father at the Castle of my Lord of Carabas I had gone but a few miles when I came to Tom Thumb's house. And as soon as his mother saw me she asked me to go to King Arthur's Court and find out about her son, Tom Thumb. She had made him but a few days before a small cambric parasol, and with this as a sort of airship he had floated off on the wind to the castle. When I got there I found that poor Tom was imprisoned in a mousetrap. He had fallen into the dough which the royal baker was about to bake into cakes for King Arthur. And this had so angered the baker that he had thrown Tom into a mousetrap."
"It was worse than that, I was to be beheaded," interposed Tom. "I owe my life to Puss, Junior."
At this, Puss actually blushed, for he was a modest little cat, although he had traveled much and had been royally treated.
"Say not so, my dear Tom," he cried, "for King Arthur was only too glad to comply with my request when I asked him to release you. In fact, it was not because he feared my sword, but because he liked my rhyme."
"How did it run?" asked the girl. And Puss, blushing still more deeply, commenced to recite this little verse:
"My good King Arthur rules this land
With justice and a generous hand.
Far be it that a cat should plead
In vain that Tom Thumb shall be freed."
"Is that what you said?" cried little Tom Thumb. "Dear, dear Puss, I shall never forget what you did for me!"
Dear, dear! Here we are at the end of the book and poor little Puss, Junior, has not yet found his father. Maybe he will in the next book.