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Before long the cat was seized by another fit of yearning. 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 the 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!'