“We’ll lie down on the sofas, and read stories all day, and go to sleep before the fire at night,” said Dowsabelle Dormouse.

“We’ll dress up in all our mothers’ clothes, and put on their rings and breastpins,” said little Finnikin Fine, pushing a chair in front of the looking-glass, and climbing up to look at herself.

“We’ll get our stockings dirty, and tear our frocks, and tumble our hair, and not wash our hands at dinner-time, nor put on our eating-aprons,” said Georgie Tearcoat, Tom’s younger sister.

“Yes, yes:  we’ll all do just as we like best for a whole week; for father and mother said we might!” shouted all the children in Merrigoland, and then laughed so loud, that the mice ran out of their holes to see what was the matter; and the cats never noticed them, they were so busy sticking the hair straight up on their backs, and making their tails look like chimney-brushes; while all the birds in the pleasant gardens of Merrigoland fluttered their wings, and sung,—­

    “Only listen to the row! 
    What in the world’s the matter now? 
    Tweet, tweet!  Can’t sing a note;
    My heart’s just jumping out of my throat. 
    Bobolink, bobolink,
    What do you think? 
    Is the world very glad,
    Or has it gone mad?”

So the children all did what they liked best, and frolicked in the sunshine like a swarm of butterflies, or like several hundred little kittens, until it came night; and then they went into the houses, and put themselves to bed.  But some of them, I am afraid, forgot to say their prayers when their mammas were not there to remind them of it.

The next morning they all jumped up, and dressed very gayly (for children do not often lie in bed), and came down to breakfast:  but, lo and behold! there was no breakfast ready, nor even any fire in the ranges and cooking-stoves, and in some houses not even any shavings and kindling wood to make a fire; and the cows, who were mostly of a Scotch breed, came to the bars, calling,—­

    “Moo, moo, moo! 
    Who’ll milk us noo?”

and the hens all stuck their heads through the bars of the poultry-yard fence, and cried,—­

    “Kah-dah-cut, kah-dah-cut! 
    Are you having your hair cut? 
    Can you give us some corn
    This beautiful morn?”

and the pigeons came flying down to the back door, murmuring,—­

    “Coo, coo, coo! 
    Must we breakfast on dew?”

and all the little children began to cry as loud as they could, and call,—­

    “Mamma, mamma, mamma! 
    I want you and papa!”