children we have! And what fine food!“
Father Mouse smoothed his whiskers as he listened. He raised his hand. “No, Mother, we don’t need a band. Our children play better than the musicians. Take your flutes, my sons; play a song at once. Your music will make pride and envy fall from all of us like yellow leaves from the linden tree.“
The flutes piped up merrily.
Immediately there was a great stir and bustle. From every chink and hole a Mouse ran out to swell the welcome. More and more came; the house was full.
But not one of the guests envied
