“My son, my son, beware!” said the frightened mother; “that lovely seeming creature is our dreadful enemy, the cat,—a horrid monster, with teeth and claws.”
At this, all the little birds shuddered and cuddled deeper in the nest; only Tip-Top, in his heart, disbelieved it. “I’m too old a bird,” said he to himself, “to believe that story; mother is chaffing me. But I’ll show her that I can take care of myself.”
So the next morning, after the father and mother were gone, Tip-Top got on the edge of the nest again, and looked over and saw lovely Miss Pussy washing her face among the daisies under the tree, and her hair was sleek and white as the daisies, and her eyes were yellow and beautiful to behold, and she looked up to the tree bewitchingly, and said, “Little birds, little birds, come down; Pussy wants to play with you.”
“Only look at her!” said Tip-Top; “her eyes are like gold.”
“No, don’t look,” said Singer and Speckle. “She will bewitch you and then eat you up.”
“I’d like to see her try to eat me up,” said Tip-Top, again balancing his short tail over the nest. “Just as if she would. She’s just the nicest, most innocent creature going, and only wants us to have fun. We never do have any fun in this old nest!”
Then the yellow eyes below shot a bewildering light into Tip-Top’s eyes, and a voice sounded sweet as silver: “Little birds, little birds, come down; Pussy wants to play with you.”
“Her paws are as white as velvet,” said Tip-Top; “and so soft! I don’t believe she has any claws.”
“Don’t go, brother, don’t!” screamed both sisters.