“What does it signify,” said the cat, “it is no worse than Crumb-stealer, as your godchildren are called.”

Before long the cat was seized by another fit of longing. She said to the mouse, “You must do me a favour, and once more manage the house for a day alone. I am again asked to be godmother, and, as the child has a white ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.” The good mouse consented, but the cat crept behind the town walls to the church, and devoured half the pot of fat. “Nothing ever seems so good as what one keeps to oneself,” said she, and was quite satisfied with her day’s work.

When she went home the mouse inquired, “And what was this child christened?”

“Half-done,” answered the cat.

“Half-done! What are you saying? I never heard the name in my life, I’ll wager anything it is not in the calendar!”