But the
key was under the tailor's pillow, he could not get in.
The little mice only laughed, and tried another tune--
"Three little mice sat down to spin,
Pussy passed by and she peeped in.
What are you at, my fine little men?
Making coats for gentlemen.
Shall I come in and cut off your threads?
Oh, no, Miss Pussy, you'd bite off our heads!"
"Mew! Mew!" cried Simpkin. "Hey diddle dinketty?" answered the little
mice--
"Hey diddle dinketty, poppetty pet!
The merchants of London they wear scarlet;
Silk in the collar, and gold in the hem,
So merrily march the merchantmen!"
[Illustration]
They clicked their thimbles to mark the time, but none of the songs
pleased Simpkin; he sniffed and mewed at the door of the shop.
"And then I bought
A pipkin and a popkin,
A slipkin and a slopkin,
All for one farthing----
and upon the kitchen dresser!" added the rude little mice.
"Mew! scratch! scratch!" scuffled Simpkin on the window-sill; while the
little mice inside sprang to their feet, and all began to shout at once in
little twittering voices: "No more twist! No more twist!" And they barred
up the window shutters and shut out Simpkin.
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