“At that the man at the gate put his big key in the lock—open flew the gate, and in went all the dozen robbers in their bags on the twelve men’s backs, with the wise old cat at the head of the procession; and in a minute they were each in one of the little pens, and”—
“Couldn’t they take off the bags then, Polly?” cried Phronsie. “Please let them for a very little bit of a while.”
“Yes,” said Polly, “they did. The wise old cat asked the gateman, who locked them all in, to undo the bags.
“‘But you can have only your heads out,’ said the gateman to the robbers, clanking his big key against the wall, ‘so you can see things.’ And he tied the bags all up around their necks; each head stuck out, you know, and the bag was drawn up in a ruffle, and tied fast.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Phronsie.
“But that was much better,” said Jasper cheerfully. “Just think, Phronsie, to get their heads out.”
“Yes,” said Phronsie slowly.
“And the next day the judge, the man who sat on a platform at the end of the big hall, told one of the servants to bring a big bell, and call everybody in, and to scream as loud as he could, ‘Twelve robbers in bags to be sentenced.’ And the people kept coming in, and coming in, and coming in, until there was only a little path in the centre for them to bring the robbers in; and pretty soon the man with the bell went up and down, and roared out, ‘Bring the robbers in!’ And twelve other servants went out and got them, and set them up in a row right in front of the judge on the platform”—