Mr. Squeaky had gone out to hunt for some supper, and the four other little mice were peeping out of the little hole in the toe of their shoe house, for Papa to come home.
All at once, Maggie, the little girl who lived up-stairs, ran into the dark corner to hide from Johnnie, just for fun. And what do you think she saw?
The four little mice peeping out of the door, and the poor, frightened mama mouse and the little baby at the window.
Maggie stopped just a minute to whisper gently to little, gray Mrs. Squeaky, “Don’t be frightened, ‘Little Old Woman Who Lives in the Shoe.’ I’ll never, never tell anybody where you live. No, I won’t even tell Johnnie or my kitty. They might try to catch you. It shall be my very own secret—and yours!”
So nobody but little Maggie ever knew about Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky, and their little pink babies in the old shoe—until long afterward, when she told me the story, as I have told it to you.
“‘trot as fast as you can to market and get me a pail of milk.’”