'Well, here you are again,' said the mouse, 'no doubt you have had a
merry day.' 'All went off well,' answered the cat. 'What name did they
give the child?' 'Top off!' said the cat quite coolly. 'Top off!' cried
the mouse, 'that is a very odd and uncommon name, is it a usual one in
your family?' 'What does that matter,' said the cat, 'it is no worse
than Crumb-stealer, as your godchildren are called.'

Before long the cat was seized by another fit of yearning. She said to
the mouse: 'You must do me a favour, and once more manage the house for
a day alone. I am again asked to be godmother, and, as the child has a
white ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.' The good mouse consented,
but the cat crept behind the town walls to the church, and devoured
half the pot of fat. 'Nothing ever seems so good as what one keeps to
oneself,' said she, and was quite satisfied with her day's work. When
she went home the mouse inquired: 'And what was the child christened?'
'Half-done,' answered the cat. 'Half-done! What are you saying? I
never heard the name in my life, I'll wager anything it is not in the
calendar!'

The cat's mouth soon began to water for some more licking. 'All good
things go in threes,' said she, 'I am asked to stand godmother again.
The child is quite black, only it has white paws, but with that
exception, it has not a single white hair on its whole body; this only
happens once every few years, you will let me go, won't you?' 'Top-off!
Half-done!' answered the mouse, 'they are such odd names, they make me
very thoughtful.' 'You sit at home,' said the cat, 'in your dark-grey
fur coat and long tail, and are filled with fancies, that's because
you do not go out in the daytime.' During the cat's absence the mouse
cleaned the house, and put it in order, but the greedy cat entirely
emptied the pot of fat. 'When everything is eaten up one has some
peace,' said she to herself, and well filled and fat she did not return
home till night. The mouse at once asked what name had been given to
the third child. 'It will not please you more than the others,' said the
cat. 'He is called All-gone.' 'All-gone,' cried the mouse 'that is the
most suspicious name of all! I have never seen it in print. All-gone;
what can that mean?' and she shook her head, curled herself up, and lay
down to sleep.

From this time forth no one invited the cat to be godmother, but
when the winter had come and there was no longer anything to be found
outs