“Come in! and how do you do, my dear Duchess?” cried Ribby.  “I hope I see you well?”

“Quite well, I thank you, and how do you do, my dear Ribby?” said Duchess.  “I’ve brought you some flowers; what a delicious smell of pie!”

“Oh, what lovely flowers!  Yes, it is mouse and bacon!”

“I think it wants another five minutes,” said Ribby.  “Just a shade longer; I will pour out the tea, while we wait.  Do you take sugar, my dear Duchess?”

“Oh yes, please! my dear Ribby; and may I have a lump upon my nose?”

“With pleasure, my dear Duchess.”

Duchess sat up with the sugar on her nose and sniffed—­

“How good that pie smells!  I do love veal and ham—­I mean to say mouse and bacon—­”

She dropped the sugar in confusion, and had to go hunting under the tea-table, so did not see which oven Ribby opened in order to get out the pie.

Ribby set the pie upon the table; there was a very savoury smell.

Duchess came out from under the table-cloth munching sugar, and sat up on a chair.

“I will first cut the pie for you; I am going to have muffin and marmalade,” said Ribby.

“I think”—­(thought Duchess to herself)—­“I think it would be wiser if I helped myself to pie; though Ribby did not seem to notice anything when she was cutting it.  What very small fine pieces it has cooked into!  I did not remember that I had minced it up so fine; I suppose this is a quicker oven than my own.”

The pie-dish was emptying rapidly!  Duchess had had four helps already, and was fumbling with the spoon.

“A little more bacon, my dear Duchess?” said Ribby.

“Thank you, my dear Ribby; I was only feeling for the patty-pan.”

“The patty-pan? my dear Duchess?”

“The patty pan that held up the pie-crust,” said Duchess, blushing under her black coat.

“Oh, I didn’t put one in, my dear Duchess,” said Ribby; “I don’t think that it is necessary in pies made of mouse.”

Duchess fumbled with the spoon—­ “I can’t find it!” she said anxiously.

“There isn’t a patty-pan,” said Ribby, looking perplexed.

“Yes, indeed, my dear Ribby; where can it have gone to?” said Duchess.

Duchess looked very much alarmed, and continued to scoop the inside of the pie-dish.

“I have only four patty-pans, and they are all in the cupboard.”

Duchess set up a howl.

“I shall die!  I shall die!  I have swallowed a patty-pan!  Oh, my dear Ribby, I do feel so ill!”

“It is impossible, my dear Duchess; there was not a patty-pan.”

“Yes there was, my dear Ribby, I am sure I have swallowed it!”

“Let me prop you up with a pillow, my dear Duchess; where do you think you feel it?”

“Oh I do feel so ill all over me, my dear Ribby.”

“Shall I run for the doctor?”