his mustaches were like
whisk-brooms. But the most singular thing about him was that in all his
life he had never once purred nor humped up his back, although his
master often stroked him. The fact was that he never had learned to
purr, nor had any reason, so far as he knew, for humping up his back.
And being the father of all the cats, there was no one to tell him how.
It remained for him to acquire a reason, and from his example to devise
a habit which cats have followed from that time forth, and no doubt will
forever follow.

The King of the country had long been at war with one of his neighbors,
but one morning he sent back a messenger to say that he had beaten his
foeman at last, and that he was coming home for an early breakfast as
hungry as three bears. "Have batter-cakes and coffee," he directed,
"hot, and plenty of 'em!"

At that the turnspits capered and yelped with glee, for batter-cakes and
coffee are not cooked upon spits, and so they were free to sally forth
into the city streets and watch the King's homecoming in a grand parade.

But the cat sat down on his tail in the corner and looked cross. "Scat!"
said he, with an angry caterwaul. "It is not fair that you should go and
that I should not."

"Oh, yes, it is," said the gleeful turnspits; "turn and turn about is
fair play: you saw the rat that was killed in the parlor."

"Turn about fair play, indeed!" cried the cat. "Then all of you get to
your spits; I am sure that is turn about!"

"Nay," said the turnspits, wagging their tails and laughing. "That is
over and over again, which is not fair play. 'Tis the coffee-mill that
is turn and turn about. So turn about to your mill, Sooty Will; we are
off to see the King!"

[Illustration: "TURNING HAND-SPRINGS, HEAD-SPRINGS, AND HEEL-SPRINGS AS
THEY WENT"]

With that they pranced out into the court-yard, turning hand-springs,
head-springs, and heel-springs as they went, and, after giving three
hearty and vociferous cheers in a grand chorus at the bottom of the
garden, went capering away for their holiday.

The cat spat at their vanishing heels, sat down on his tail in the
chimney-corner, and was very glum indeed.

Just then the cook looked in from the pantry. "Hullo!" he said gruffly.
"Come, hurry up the coffee!" That was the way he always gave his orders.

[Illustration: "'HULLO!' HE SAID GRUFFLY. 'COME, HURRY UP THE
COFFEE!'"]

The black cat's whiskers bristled. He turned to the mill with a fi