And now in a garret there were lights and sounds of dancing, and cats came
from over the way.
"Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle! All the cats in
Gloucester--except me," said Simpkin.
Under the wooden eaves the starlings and sparrows sang of Christmas pies;
the jack-daws woke up in the Cathedral tower; and although it was the
middle of the night the throstles and robins sang; the air was quite full
of little twittering tunes.
[Illustration]
But it was all rather provoking to poor hungry Simpkin!
Particularly he was vexed with some little shrill voices from behind a
wooden lattice. I think that they were bats, because they always have very
small voices--especially in a black frost, when they talk in their sleep,
like the Tailor of Gloucester.
They said something mysterious that sounded like--
"Buz, quoth the blue fly, hum, quoth the bee,
Buz and hum they cry, and so do we!"
and Simpkin went away shaking his ears as if he had a bee in his bonnet.
[Illustration]
From the tailor's shop in Westgate came a glow of light; and when Simpkin
crept up to peep in at the window it was full of candles. There was a
snippeting of scissors, and snappeting of thread; and little mouse voices
sang loudly and gaily--
"Four-and-twenty tailors
Went to catch a snail,
The best man amongst them
Durst not touch her tail,
She put out her horns
Like a little kyloe cow,
Run, tailors, run! or she'll have you all e'en now!"
Then without a pause the little mouse voices went on again--
"Sieve my lady's oatmeal,
Grind my lady's flour,
Put it in a chestnut,
Let it stand an hour----"
[Illustration]
"Mew! Mew!" interrupted Simpkin, and he scratched at the door.
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