"Top-off," answered the cat, drily.
"Top-off!" cried the mouse, "that is a singular and wonderful name! is it common in your family?"
"What does it matter?" said the cat; "it's not any worse than Crumb-picker, like your god-child."
A little time after this the cat was again seized with a longing.
"Again I must ask you," said he to the mouse, "to do me a favour, and keep house alone for a day. I have been asked a second time to stand god-father; and as the little one has a white ring round its neck, I cannot well refuse."
So the kind little mouse consented, and the cat crept along by the town wall until he reached the church, and going straight to the little pot of fat, devoured half of it.
"Nothing tastes so well as what one keeps to oneself," said he, feeling quite content with his day's work. When he reached home, the mouse asked what name had been given to the child.
"Half-gone," answered the cat.
"Half-gone!" cried the mouse, "I never heard such a name in my life! I'll bet it's not to be found in the calendar."
Soon after that the cat's mouth began to water again for the fat.