“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—­to be lined with yellow taffeta—­and the taffeta sufficeth; there is no more left over in snippets than will serve to make tippets for mice——­”

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 dresser was covered with crockery and pipkins, willow pattern plates, and tea-cups and mugs.

The tailor crossed the kitchen, and stood quite still beside the dresser, listening, and peering through his spectacles.  Again from under a tea-cup, came those funny little noises—­

Tip tap, tip tap, Tip tap tip!

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

[Illustration]

Out stepped a little live lady mouse, and made a curtsey 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, and mumbling to himself——­

“The waistcoat is cut out from peach-coloured satin—­tambour stitch and rose-buds in beautiful floss silk.  Was I wise to entrust my last fourpence to Simpkin?  One-and-twenty button-holes of cherry-coloured twist!”

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.

[Illustration]

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

And then from all over the dresser came a chorus of little tappings, all sounding together, and answering one another, like watch-beetles in an old worm-eaten window-shutter—­

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

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.

[Illustration]

The tailor sat down, close over the fire, lamenting—­“One-and-twenty button-holes 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 all at once they all ran away together down the passage behind the wainscot, squeaking and calling to one another, as they ran from house to house; and not one mouse was left in the tailor’s kitchen when Simpkin came back with the pipkin of milk!