So the little brown Mouse was the little Red Man’s servant, and every day he made the little Red Man’s bed and swept the little Red Man’s room and cooked the little Red Man’s broth.  And every day the little Red Man went away through the tiny door, and did not come back till afternoon.  But he always locked the door after him, and carried away the key.

At last, one day he was in such a hurry that he turned the key before the door was quite latched, which, of course, didn’t lock it at all.  He went away without noticing,—­he was in such a hurry.

The little Field Mouse knew that his chance had come to run away home.  But he didn’t want to go without the pretty, shiny acorn.  Where it was he didn’t know, so he looked everywhere.  He opened every little drawer and looked in, but it wasn’t in any of the drawers; he peeped on every shelf, but it wasn’t on a shelf; he hunted in every closet, but it wasn’t in there.  Finally, he climbed up on a chair and opened a wee, wee door in the chimney-piece,—­and there it was!

He took it quickly in his forepaws, and then he took it in his mouth, and then he ran away.  He pushed open the little door; he climbed up, up, up the little stairs; he came out through the hole under the root; he ran and ran through the fields; and at last he came to his own house.

When he was in his own house he set the shiny acorn on the table.  I expect he set it down hard, for all at once, with a little snap, it opened!—­exactly like a little box.

And what do you think!  There was a tiny necklace inside!  It was a most beautiful tiny necklace, all made of jewels, and it was just big enough for a lady mouse.  So the little Field Mouse gave the tiny necklace to his little Mouse-sister.  She thought it was perfectly lovely.  And when she wasn’t wearing it she kept it in the shiny acorn box.

And the little Red Man never knew what had become of it, because he didn’t know where the little Field Mouse lived.

ANOTHER LITTLE RED HEN[18]

Once upon a time there was a little Red Hen, who lived on a farm all by herself.  An old Fox, crafty and sly, had a den in the rocks, on a hill near her house.  Many and many a night this old Fox used to lie awake and think to himself how good that little Red Hen would taste if he could once get her in his big kettle and boil her for dinner.  But he couldn’t catch the little Red Hen, because she was too wise for him.  Every time she went out to market she locked the door of the house behind her, and as soon as she came in again she locked the door behind her and put the key in her apron pocket, where she kept her scissors and some sugar candy.

At last the old Fox thought out a way to catch the little Red Hen.  Early in the morning he said to his old mother, “Have the kettle boiling when I come home to-night, for I’ll be bringing the little Red Hen for supper.”  Then he took a big bag and slung it over his shoulder, and walked till he came to the little Red Hen’s house.  The little Red Hen was just coming out of her door to pick up a few sticks for firewood.  So the old Fox hid behind the wood-pile, and as soon as she bent down to get a stick, into the house he slipped, and scurried behind the door.