When the procession was past and gone, as all processions pass and go, vanishing down the shores of forgetfulness; when barons, marquises, dukes, and dons were gone, with their pennants and banners; when the last lancers had gone prancing past and were lost to sight down the circuitous avenue, Sooty Will, with drooping tail, stood by the palace gate, dejected. He was sour and silent and glum. Indeed, who would not be, with a coffee-mill on his conscience? To own up to the entire truth, the cat was feeling decidedly unwell; when suddenly the cook popped his head in at the scullery entry, crying, “How now, how now, you vagabonds! The war is done, but the breakfast is not. Hurry up, scurry up, scamper and trot! The cakes are all cooked and are piping hot! Then why is the coffee so slow?” The King was in the dining-hall, in dressing-gown and slippers, irately calling for his breakfast!
“he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill”
The shamefaced, guilty cat ran hastily down the scullery stairs and hid under the refrigerator, with such a deep inward sensation of remorse that he dared not look the kind cook in the face. It now really seemed to him as if everything had gone wrong with the world, especially his own insides. This any one will readily believe who has ever swallowed a coffee-mill. He began to weep copiously.
“and was off to see the king”
The cook came into the kitchen. “Where is the coffee?” he said; then, catching sight of the secluded cat, he stooped, crying, “Where is the coffee?”
“the cat was feeling decidedly unwell”
The cat sobbed audibly. “Some one must have come into the kitchen while I ran out to look at the King!” he gasped, for there seemed to him no way out of the scrape but by telling a plausible untruth. “Some one must have come into the kitchen and stolen it!” And with that, choking upon the handle of the mill, which projected into his throat, he burst into inarticulate sobs.