The Tale of Two Bad Mice

Once upon a time there was a very beautiful doll's-house. It was red brick with white windows, and it had real muslin curtains and a front door and a chimney. It belonged to two dolls called Lucinda and Jane. At least, it belonged to Lucinda — Jane was the cook. But they never cooked any dinner, because dinner had been bought already, from a toy shop. Such a lovely dinner it was! There was a lobster, a ham, a fish, a pudding, some pears, and oranges. They would not come off the plates, but they were exceedingly beautiful.

One morning, when the dolls were sitting quietly in the kitchen, two little mice crept in through a hole in the skirting board. Their names were Tom Thumb and Hunca Munca. They went upstairs and peeped into the dining room. What a marvellous feast! Tom Thumb set to work at once, trying to carve the ham with a little lead knife. "It's not boiling," said Hunca Munca, peering into a saucepan. Tom Thumb pushed the ham off the plate — clatter, clatter — upon the floor. It bounced and rolled, because it was not a real ham at all. It was painted plaster.

Then there was no end to their disappointment and rage. They tried every single dish. The lobster — plaster. The fish — plaster. Even the lovely pears and oranges would not come off the plates. Tom Thumb put the ham in the middle of the floor and hit it with the tongs and with the shovel — bang, bang, smash, smash! The ham flew all into pieces, for underneath the shiny paint it was nothing but plaster and sawdust. Then the mice became perfectly wild with frustration. Hunca Munca stood on a chair and knocked the fish clean off the table. She upset the pudding. She broke the lobster's claws.

After they had calmed down somewhat, Hunca Munca had a practical thought. If the food was no good, the furniture was excellent. She carried the little feather bed and bolster downstairs to the mouse-hole. Then she went back for a chair, a bookcase, a bird-cage, and several small saucepans. Tom Thumb helped. He carried a cradle, and some of Lucinda's clothes. They took everything they could carry. The bookcase and the bird-cage refused to go into the mouse-hole. Tom Thumb pushed and pushed, but they would not fit.

When the dolls came home, what a sight met their eyes! The dinner was destroyed, the furniture was missing, and there were crumbs of plaster all over the floor. But Tom Thumb and Hunca Munca were not entirely bad mice. After they had settled into their new home, furnished so handsomely with the stolen goods, they felt rather guilty. Tom Thumb paid for everything. He found a crooked sixpence under the hearthrug, and upon Christmas Eve he put it in one of the stockings belonging to Lucinda and Jane. And Hunca Munca got up very early every morning and swept the dolls' house with a tiny dustpan and brush. Which only goes to show that even the naughtiest mice have a conscience — eventually. Though they did keep the furniture.