and gave one of them to the little boy. He lived with his old
grandmother, and they were very poor; it was hard for them to get the
coarsest porridge to eat. The little boy often stood looking through the
fence and smiling at Dorothy, and the old grandmother spoke kindly to
her whenever she had an opportunity.

The little boy stood on one side of the fence and Dorothy on the other,
and they ate the honey-cake. Then Dorothy ran back to the house and fell
to spinning again. She spun so fast, to make up for the lost time, that
one could not see the wheel-spokes at all, and the room hummed like a
hive of bees. But, fast as she spun, Dame Betsy, when she returned,
discovered that she had been idling, and said that she must go without
her supper. Poor Dorothy could not help weeping as she twirled the
wheel, she was so hungry, and the honey-cake had been very small.

Dame Betsy dished up the stew and put the spoons and bowls on the table,
and soon the five absent daughters came home, rustling their flounces
and flirting their parasols.

They all sat down to the table and began to eat, while Dorothy stood at
her wheel and sadly spun.

They had eaten all the stew except a little, just about enough for a
cat, when a little shadow fell across the floor.

"Why, who's coming?" whispered Dame Betsy, and directly all the
daughters began to smooth their front hair; each thought it might be a
suitor.

But everything that they could see entering the door was a beautiful
gray cat. She came stepping across the floor with a dainty, velvet
tread. She had a tail like a plume, and she trailed it on the floor as
she walked; her fur was very soft and long, and caught the light like
silver; she had delicate tufted ears, and her shining eyes were like
yellow jewels.

"It's nothing but a cat!" cried the daughters in disgust, and Dame Betsy
arose to get the broom; she hated cats. That decided the daughters; they
also hated cats, but they liked to oppose their mother. So they insisted
on keeping the cat.

There was much wrangling, but the daughters were too much for Dame
Betsy; the beautiful cat was allowed to remain on the hearth, and the
remnant of the stew was set down there for her. But, to every one's
amazement, she refused to touch it. She sat purring, with her little
silvery paws folded, her plumy tail swept gracefully around her, and
quite ignored the stew.

"I will take it up and give it to the pig," said Dame Betsy.

"No, no!"