"That's because you are always sitting at home," said the cat, "in your little grey frock and hairy tail, never seeing the world, and fancying all sorts of things."
So the little mouse cleaned up the house and set it all in order. Meanwhile the greedy cat went and made an end of the little pot of fat.
"Now all is finished one's mind will be easy," said he, and came home in the evening, quite sleek and comfortable. The mouse asked at once what name had been given to the third child.
"It won't please you any better than the others," answered the cat. "It is called All-gone."
"All-gone!" cried the mouse. "What an unheard-of-name! I never met with anything like it! All-gone! whatever can it mean?" And shaking her head, she curled herself round and went to sleep. After that the cat was not again asked to stand god-father.
When the winter had come and there was nothing more to be had out of doors, the mouse began to think of their store.
"Come, cat," said she, "we will fetch our pot of fat, how good it will taste, to be sure!"
"Of course it will," said the cat, "just as good as if you stuck your tongue out of window!"
So they set out, and when they reached the place, they found the pot, but it was standing empty.
"Oh, now I know what it all meant," cried the mouse, "now I see what sort of a partner you have been! Instead of standing god-father you have devoured it all up; first Topoff, then Half-gone, then"—
"Will you hold your tongue!" screamed the cat, "another word, and I devour you too!"
And the poor little mouse, having "All-gone" on her tongue, out it came, and the cat leaped upon her and made an end of her. And that is the way of the world.
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