t; don't you forget!" whispered Peter.

The procession was now approaching a house considerably larger than
any of the others and which had "The Pirattery" written in large
letters over its door. Mittens led the way inside, the mates with the
children and all the other pirates followed, together with as many of
the island cats as could squeeze themselves in. The Pirattery, so the
children were informed by Growler and Prowler, was an assembly hall or
general meeting-place for the pirates when on shore. Its floor and
the little platform at one end were strewn with rat-skin rugs of the
finest quality, and its walls were adorned with handsomely stuffed and
mounted mouse and fish heads, snake skins, and other trophies of the
chase.

Mittens now took up his position on the platform and began a long and
eloquent speech in which he related the story of the capture of his
prisoners, making the most absurd boasts of the terrible risks he had
run, and dwelling most particularly on the awful fate of the False
Hare--while quite forgetting to mention his escape. This speech was
interrupted by tremendous cheers from the island cats which were only
faintly joined in by the pirates. Mittens finished by saying that a
concert in celebration of the victory would now be given, after which
there would be refreshments--Peter pricked up his ears at the word!
--and then the plunder taken from the prisoners would be distributed
among the officers and crew of the _Merry Mouser_. This last
announcement was greeted by a volley of shrill and joyful yowls from
the younger cat pirates, but Growler, frowning, whispered in Rudolf's
ear:

"Don't you believe a word of that, about whacking up on the treasure!
He'll never give up so much as a single shirt stud, he won't."

"I would 'a' liked them pink pajamas, I would," sighed Prowler.
"They'd just suit my dark complexion."

"I can't understand," said Ann, "what it is that has made such a
change in Mittens! Why, just yesterday when we got to Aunt Jane's he
was asleep before the fire with a little red bow on his collar--just
as soft and nice as anything, and he let us all take turns holding
him!"

"He never scratched really _deep_ all day," said Peter mournfully,
"only when we dressed him up in the doll's clothes--he didn't seem to
'preciate that--an'--an' when I pulled his tail--he didn't _like_
that, neither."

"He's a bad old thief, that's what he is!" exclaimed Rudolf,
forgetting in his excitem