thought: "No one will believe me, and I shall only be laughed at." This, at least, was very clear, that if she wished to save little Nutcracker, she must give up her sugar-plums and her gingerbread. So, in the evening, she laid all that she had—and she had a great deal—down before the foot of the glass case.
The next morning, her mother said: "It is strange what brings the mice all at once into the sitting-room. See, poor Maria, they have eaten up all your gingerbread." And so it was. The ravenous Mouse-King had not found the sugar-plums exactly to his taste, but he had gnawed them with his sharp teeth, so that they had to be thrown away. Maria did not grieve about her cake and sugar-plums, for she was greatly delighted to think that she had saved little Nutcracker. But what was her terror, when the very next night she heard a squeaking and squealing close to her ear! Ah, the Mouse-King was there again, and his eyes sparkled
