Chapter III: Part 3

But Wishie was getting much too frightened now to enjoy the fun any longer: she stood, gazing with rueful looks at the broken mirror--O if the cross old housekeeper should find it out! She thought the best plan would be to steal out of the room, but on turning round, she perceived that the door had become most unaccountably shut--there was no getting out. What was to be done? While she was turning it over in her mind, down came the ball directly upon Wishie's tail, with such a thump! Wishie thought her poor tail must be utterly demolished--she heard an odd sort of chuckling laugh up in the air, and, looking up, saw that the ball had seated itself, very quietly, in its old place on the top of the cabinet. How her tail smarted! it was worse a great deal than the sting. She was just trying to curl it round to lick it, when the door opened, and in came the housekeeper! She had not advanced many steps when the broken china caught her eye; her back was towards the mirror, so she did not see _that_--but she _did_ see Wishie, and exclaiming, 'You naughty little kitten, you have been throwing down the china!' She flew towards Wishie, and if she could have caught her, would, no doubt, have given her a dreadful whipping; but, as she had luckily left the door open, Wishie contrived to slip past her, and dart out of the room. When the housekeeper turned round, she spied the broken mirror; which put her into such a consternation, that, for a few minutes, she was really too much thunderstruck to run after Wishie. And there sate the ball on the cabinet, very quietly, and nobody ever suspected it.

It was lucky for Wishie that she gained a few minutes on the housekeeper, for by that means, making the best use of her time, she flew along the gallery, down the staircase, and jumping out of an open window, was safely hidden among the shrubs in the garden, before her enemy had descended the stairs. Poor Wishie! the pain in her tail was terrible; and she dared not go to her mother, to tell her misfortunes, for she knew that if she did, her mother would be sure to cuff her soundly. So she lay still under the bushes, licking her tail, and trying to forget her troubles as well as she could. Evening came on; the sun was low in the heavens, and the little birds, that had set out in the morning full of glee, came back merrily to their nests, and made themselves comfortable for the night: it was clear they had had a very happy day of it, though very likely not all they wished for. Wishie sighed as she listened to their cheerful chirpings. By and bye she began to feel very hungry, and she thought if she could find Contenta, she could beg a bit of her supper, for, of course, nobody else would give her any. So she crawled out of the bushes, and stole into the court-yard. No one was about; all was quite still: she crept along under the house till she reached the place where the cats' supper was always put out for them on the top of a flat stone. Her papa and mamma, and Contenta, had certainly finished their supper, but they had remembered Wishie, and very good-naturedly left her some in the dish; so that she really made a very good supper, better than she deserved a great deal. Having accomplished this important point, she thought, as all seemed so quiet, she might venture into the house.

The great door, which opened into the court-yard, had been left ajar, so she crept in, and peeped into the hall. No one was there; it was getting dusk: the old knights and ladies who hung against the walls of the great hall, looked down upon her so gloomily, that she began to wonder whether they meant to jump upon the floor and give her a beating. However, they staid quietly in their black frames, and Wishie crept on, and on, shaking all over for fear she should meet anybody, till seeing the door of the baron's dining-hall wide open, she ventured in. The room was empty; the baron's dinner had been over hours ago; there seemed no fear of any one coming, so she grew bolder and jumped upon one of the window-seats to consider what she should do with herself all night. But before she had settled that point, she began to grow rather thirsty, and (quite forgetting that she had already had a very good supper, and that Contenta had left her her full share of the milk that was put out for them every night), being naturally of a very greedy disposition, she thought how nice a great dish full of cream would be.

Now it so happened, that close by the window-seat on which she had stationed herself, there stood on the floor a huge old china punch-bowl, which was never used except on very great occasions, such as a marriage in the baron's family, and the like. Many a long year it was since that bowl had ever been used! there it stood, half-covered with cobwebs; but the housekeeper came and dusted it sometimes. Well; Wishie's eye just then fell on the great bowl.

'What a quantity of cream it would hold!' she exclaimed; 'how nice it would be to have it to lap whenever I liked! I do wish it was full of nice thick cream, like that the baron has for breakfast!'

Wishie had hardly said it, when something began bubbling up, very gently, as if it was very soft, from the bottom of the bowl, and in a few minutes there floated at her feet, a perfect white sea! an ocean of cream--smooth, delicious, and tempting. It was so conveniently close to the window-sill, too, that by planting her fore-paws on the rim of the bowl, she could stoop down and lap so comfortably! At least she thought so at first; but somehow, when she came to try, the china was so thin and so slippery, that she found she could get very little hold. It was very provoking. But she tried a second time; really, it was _dreadfully_ slippery, and there was nothing that she could stick her claws into--however, she did at last contrive to get her tongue just to the top of the cream; but she had scarcely tasted it, when suddenly her paws shot apart, and she tumbled headlong into the bowl! The bowl was deep and wide, and there was nothing for her to cling to, to help herself out by. O, what a splashing and spluttering she made! but it did her no good; the cream got into her eyes, her mouth, her nostrils, and she could not anyhow lift herself out of it--there she must stay, coughing, choking, and struggling, till she was drowned. Wishie thought she had quite enough cream! But just as she was sinking down, quite exhausted with her useless efforts, she felt her neck seized, and that some one was drawing her out of the bowl. The next minute she was laid safe and sound on the floor. It was some little time before she could open her eyes, and when she did so, she was exceedingly astonished to see, by the waning light, the beautiful lady with the golden locks and crown of white roses, and glittering dew-drops.

'Well, Wishie,' said the Fairy, 'have you had a pleasant day of it? You have had everything you wished for, I think?'

'O dear, ma'am!' replied Wishie, shaking her ears to get the cream out, 'I never had such a miserable day in my life! I have met with such dreadful misfortunes!'

'Then,' said the Fairy, 'you think that your day would have been a happier one, if you had _not_ had everything you fancied you should like?'

Wishie hung her head down, and looked very silly; and at last answered that 'she thought it would.'

'I am quite of that opinion,' replied the Fairy; 'and, as you seem by this time to have had pretty plain proofs of the folly of _wishing_, I will take away my dangerous gift from you; for I hope you will be wiser now than you have ever been before.' So saying, the Fairy gave her a stroke with her wand, and Wishie directly found herself in her own little bed, by the side of her sister Contenta, who was sound asleep. And in a minute Wishie fell asleep too, and never awoke till the sun was shining in at the windows. She told all her strange adventures to her father and mother and Contenta; upon which they all held up their paws, and declared they had never heard anything so wonderful. But her father and mother scolded her also, and told her it was all her own fault, which Wishie felt was too true; and, from that day forwards, she never mewed for anything, but became as satisfied and good-humored as Contenta herself; and even the housekeeper at last grew quite fond of her.

FINIS.

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| Page 103: slily is a variant of slyly |
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| Page 67: "whispering the cat not to mind what..." |
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