“I would ‘a’ liked them pink pajamas, I would,” sighed Prowler.  “They’d just suit my dark complexion.”

“I can’t understand,” said Ann, “what it is that has made such a change in Mittens!  Why, just yesterday when we got to Aunt Jane’s he was asleep before the fire with a little red bow on his collar—­just as soft and nice as anything, and he let us all take turns holding him!”

“He never scratched really deep all day,” said Peter mournfully, “only when we dressed him up in the doll’s clothes—­he didn’t seem to ‘preciate that—­an’—­an’ when I pulled his tail—­he didn’t like that, neither.”

“He’s a bad old thief, that’s what he is!” exclaimed Rudolf, forgetting in his excitement to lower his voice.  “And if we ever get back to Aunt Jane’s and he’s there, I’ll fix him—­”

A general warning hiss went up from the pirate cats who stood nearest to the children.  “Be quiet,” muttered Growler, “unless you want your ears bitten off?  Don’t you see the Chief is going to sing?”

Mittens had stepped to the front of the platform and was fixing an angry scowl upon the three children who stood between Growler and Prowler directly beneath him.  When all was so quiet in the hall you could have heard a pin drop, the Chief cleared his throat and nodded to the Maltese pirate who stood ready to accompany him upon the tambourine.  In the background a semicircle of other singers clutched their music and shuffled their feet rather nervously as they waited to come in at the chorus.

Mittens sang in a high plaintive voice: 

      “When I was young, you know,
      Not very long ago,
    I was a mild, a happy Pussy-cat! 
      My fur was soft as silk,
      I lived on bread and milk,
    And I dozed away my days upon the mat!”

    Chorus

    ("He was then a happy, happy Pussy-cat!”)

      “I really blush to say
      How idly I would play
    With my tail or silly spool upon the floor—­
      Till one unlucky day
      Three children came to stay—­
    After that I wasn’t happy any more.”

    Chorus

    ("No, indeed, he wasn’t happy any more!”)

      “They drove me nearly wild,
      My temper, once so mild,
    They spoiled—­the truth of that you’ll say is plain—­
      So I ran away to sea—­
      ’Tis a pirate’s life for me,
    And I’ll never be a Pussy-cat again!”

    Chorus

    ("No, he’ll never be a Pussy-cat again!”)