Then Simpkin again said “Miaw!” and took the groat and the pipkin, and went out into the dark.

The tailor was very tired and beginning to be ill.  He sat down by the hearth and talked to himself about that wonderful coat.

“I shall make my fortune—­to be cut bias—­the Mayor of Gloucester is to be married on Christmas Day in the morning, and he hath ordered a coat and an embroidered waistcoat—­”

Then the tailor started; for suddenly, interrupting him, from the dresser at the other side of the kitchen came a number of little noises—­

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

“Now what can that be?” said the Tailor of Gloucester, jumping up from his chair.  The tailor crossed the kitchen, and stood quite still beside the dresser, listening, and peering through his spectacles.

“This is very peculiar,” said the Tailor of Gloucester, and he lifted up the tea-cup which was upside down.

Out stepped a little live lady mouse, and made a courtesy to the tailor!  Then she hopped away down off the dresser, and under the wainscot.

The tailor sat down again by the fire, warming his poor cold hands.  But all at once, from the dresser, there came other little noises—­

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

“This is passing extraordinary!” said the Tailor of Gloucester, and turned over another tea-cup, which was upside down.

Out stepped a little gentleman mouse, and made a bow to the tailor!

And out from under tea-cups and from under bowls and basins, stepped other and more little mice, who hopped away down off the dresser and under the wainscot.

The tailor sat down, close over the fire, lamenting:  “One-and-twenty buttonholes of cherry-coloured silk!  To be finished by noon of Saturday:  and this is Tuesday evening.  Was it right to let loose those mice, undoubtedly the property of Simpkin?  Alack, I am undone, for I have no more twist!”

The little mice came out again and listened to the tailor; they took notice of the pattern of that wonderful coat.  They whispered to one another about the taffeta lining and about little mouse tippets.

And then suddenly they all ran away together down the passage behind the wainscot, squeaking and calling to one another as they ran from house to house.

Not one mouse was left in the tailor’s kitchen when Simpkin came back.  He set down the pipkin of milk upon the dresser, and looked suspiciously at the tea-cups.  He wanted his supper of little fat mouse!

“Simpkin,” said the tailor, “where is my twist?”

But Simpkin hid a little parcel privately in the tea-pot, and spit and growled at the tailor; and if Simpkin had been able to talk, he would have asked:  “Where is my mouse?”

“Alack, I am undone!” said the Tailor of Gloucester, and went sadly to bed.

All that night long Simpkin hunted and searched through the kitchen, peeping into cupboards and under the wainscot, and into the tea-pot where he had hidden that twist; but still he found never a mouse!