They HEARD mice and they SMELT mice, but not a
cat moved, for they were on their honour; so they kept guard and
licked their lips sadly. When the Griffin saw the last of the
twelve hundred dozen mice disappearing down the road with never a
cat after them, he was in a tremendous temper and flew away to the
house of the Wicked Witch, only stopping to pick up a steam engine
which he dropped through her roof, and then went home to bed. Next
day he remembered a friend of his called the Grumpy Giant, who
lived six doors away, that is, about a thousand miles, so he flew
to ask his advice. When the Giant heard his story, he said in the
gruffest voice you ever heard, "Mice is common, try sparrers" (by
which you can see that he was quite an uneducated person), and then
he turned over and went to sleep.
The Dreadful Griffin at once flew away to the Sparrow Preserves,
bought eleven thousand, and then proceeded to let them fly close to
the castle. Still not a cat moved. As the cats' copy-book well
says, "Honour is dearer to cats than mice or birds," and all the
kittens write this in round-hand as soon as they can do lessons at
all, and never forget it.
Well, I really dare not describe the state of mind the Griffin was
in; but he made the air so hot that all the people put on their
thinnest clothes, although it was the middle of winter. He flew
home puffing and snorting, and on the way he passed the house of
the Amiable Answerer.
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