THE TALE OF TWO BAD MICE
Jane was the Cook; but she never did any cooking, because the dinner had been bought ready-made, in a box full of shavings.
They would not come off the plates, but they were extremely beautiful.
Tom Thumb put out his head for a moment, and then popped it in again.
Tom Thumb was a mouse.
Such a lovely dinner was laid out upon the table! There were tin spoons, and lead knives and forks, and two dolly-chairs—all so convenient!
The knife crumpled up and hurt him; he put his finger in his mouth.
"It is not boiled enough; it is hard. You have a try, Hunca Munca."
"It's as hard as the hams at the cheesemonger's," said Hunca Munca.
"Let it alone," said Tom Thumb; "give me some fish, Hunca Munca!"
Then Tom Thumb lost his temper. He put the ham in the middle of the floor, and hit it with the tongs and with the shovel—bang, bang, smash, smash!
The ham flew all into pieces, for underneath the shiny paint it was made of nothing but plaster!
As the fish would not come off the plate, they put it into the red-hot crinkly paper fire in the kitchen; but it would not burn either.
But Hunca Munca had a frugal mind. After pulling half the feathers out of Lucinda's bolster, she remembered that she herself was in want of a feather bed.
Lucinda sat upon the upset kitchen stove and stared; and Jane leant against the kitchen dresser and smiled—but neither of them made any remark.
He found a crooked sixpence under the hearthrug; and upon Christmas Eve, he and Hunca Munca stuffed it into one of the stockings of Lucinda and Jane.
