“Meow will give a coming-out party on Saturday next from two till six, to her kittens Hiddigeigei, Lady Jane Grey and Patsy, assisted by Booker T. Washington, Mollie Scott, Budge and Goldie.”
The happy day came at last, sunshiny and bright, as if it had been made expressly for our party, and at the appointed hour came also our little guests. There were Marjory, Winifred, George and Doris, and my new friends Frances, Arline, Earl, Lillian and Burt. These, with Booker, Goldie, Budge, myself and the kittens, made just sixteen in all.
Hiddigeigei, Patsy and Lady Jane Grey
Mollie Scott was also invited, but she did not come. After it was all over she called and excused herself, saying she had never attended a party, and didn’t know just how it would be; but that she had spent most of the afternoon on the back fence, taking note of what was going on, and that she thought another time she would venture to try it. Said I, “The way to learn to do a thing is to do it, and you have probably missed the chance of your life.”
At this Mollie gave me a very solemn look, and as she turned to go I heard her mutter something to herself about “no use crying over spilled milk.”
But to return to the party. Each of us big cats wore a wide ribbon sash with a big bow tied at the back, but the little kittens wore narrow ribbons tied around their necks. Goldie wore white, Booker crimson, Budge blue, and I orange; and the kittens wore blue except Hiddigeigei who wore pink. Our basket, handsomely decorated with fresh ribbon, was placed in a sheltered corner of the library, and let me assure you that we cats looked every bit as festive and gay as did our guests.
For a while the children wanted to do nothing else but play with the kittens, and I was only sorry that I did not have enough to go around. I never saw children handle kittens so carefully; no mauling, no squeezing; they just laid them on their breasts or on their laps, and stroked their backs and scratched their heads and chins, as if they all knew just how kittens like to be treated. I half suspect that mistress took them aside and showed them how.
The kittens enjoyed the party much more than we older ones. Budge—poor, timid, bashful Budge—he never did like a crowd. When he saw such a troop of children come in, he made for the basement, where he remained in hiding behind the laundry stove till mistress brought him up and put him on top of the high bookcase; and there he seemed to feel secure, for none of the children could reach him. Booker and Goldie spent most of the afternoon in hiding under the couch.
When my kittens had been played with long enough, I went into my basket, and mistress understood just what I meant by it.