She was awakened by the young mice dancing over her bed, tapping her cheek with their little paws, and lifting her hair to peep at her blooming face, for they thought her very lovely.
"Go away and leave me in peace! I am very tired, and shall not rise yet," she cried, as they unfurled her wings and tried to make her follow them.
"Mamma will give you no breakfast if you do not come when we call; she is very punctual, and has waited five minutes already."
"I shall come when I like; so drop the curtain and let me alone," was all Moss answered, settling her tiny nightcap and drawing the mullein-leaf lanket more cosily over her shoulders.
"Oh! oh! what a lazy thing! Come and tell mamma that she says she won't," cried the mice, frisking away through the winding galleries, squeaking shrilly as they ran.
"Bless me, what a stir they make," thought Moss, and, instead of getting up, lay dreaming about it till the sun was high. Then she went to seek her breakfast, but not a morsel remained, and she would have fared ill had she not found a cluster of strawberries, on which she made a dainty meal. As she ate she looked about her, thinking what a busy place she was in, for Skip was at work in the oak. Spin wove away at his leafy loom, Lightheart was singing her morning song in the clouds, Chirp was hopping over the field to his work, and, close by, Scamper and Squeak were pulling an oak-leaf laden with seeds, their little tails twined about the stem, and were trotting stoutly along, while Nibble ran behind to steady the load. All were up and at work, the air was filled with a busy
