Gother Moose—A plum? What a queer word! No he found no plum, he found—that he couldn’t take another, because his pie was gone.
Derf—Tell anodder. Dat was a fine one. Wasn’t it, Alice?
Frank—Very nice indeed—quite all of a sameness.
Gother Moose—Ecila may choose this time.
Ecila—Little Po Beeb.
Gother Moose—Little Po Beeb had one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, woolly cats. One night Po Beeb did not go to sleep at all, but sat up watching her woolly cats, and as she watched, they trotted off, down the hill to the very top, then out of sight, and—
Alice—She couldn’t tell where to find them.
Gother Moose—Certainly she could. They were just under the top of the hill, behind a very small tree. Po Beeb and the Spankety Man walked after them, and they all came right back. They had gone for a drink of water.
Alice—So they all came home, wagging their tails behind them.
Gother Moose—Certainly not. They did not come home, they went home, and they had no tails at all. Cats never have any tails. And no animal in Topsy-Turvy Land, except the terrible Wincheopactylus, ever wears its tail behind it. It always dangles gracefully forward over the left shoulder. But I must hurry on, to tell the Christmas stories to other Topsy Turvy children. Badgye. Watch for Clanty Sauce.