he were trying to fly.
The noise brought Mrs. Green hurriedly out of the buttery. And she was just in time to see Miss Kitty Cat peer out of the old stove-pipe hole, with a creamy look about her mouth.
Well, the cat was out of the bag at last. Or perhaps it would be more exact to say that Miss Kitty was out of the buttery. Anyhow, it was very plain to Mrs. Green that she had been in the buttery only a moment before, lapping thick cream off a pan of milk. And she hadn't had time to wash her face.
After that Farmer Green stopped up the stove-pipe hole. And soon Miss Kitty's appetite for milk returned. When Mrs. Green set out her saucer of milk for her Miss Kitty lapped it up greedily--and even licked the saucer clean.
Old dog Spot watched her with a grin.
"I let you know when I caught the cream thief, just as I promised you I would," he jeered.
Miss Kitty wiped her face very carefully before replying.
"Don't boast!" she said. "It's a disagreeable thing to do.... Besides, I knew--long before you did--who was taking Mrs. Green's cream."
XI
THE WRENS' HOME
THERE wasn't a bird on the farm that didn't dislike Miss Kitty Cat. And there was only one bird family that didn't live in dread of her. That was the Wren family. And they had a good reason for feeling safe from Miss Kitty.
Miss Kitty Cat always spluttered whenever she unbent herself enough to talk with anybody about Rusty Wren and his busy little wife, who had their home in the cherry tree outside Farmer Green's window.
"The Wrens needn't feel so proud of their house," Miss Kitty Cat sometimes said. "It's nothing but an old syrup can. And I know for a fact that Mrs. Bluebird looked at it last spring when she was hunting for a home. And she said she wouldn't live in such a place. I heard her tell her husband so."
Now, the reason why Mr. and Mrs. Wren liked their house and the reason why Miss Kitty Cat didn't were one and the same: Miss Kitty couldn't get inside it. The mouth of the syrup can, which the Wren family used for a door, was no bigger than a quarter of a dollar. It was entirely too small for Miss Kitty Cat, though it was big enough to admit Rusty Wren and his plump wife.
Miss Kitty said everything she could to persuade the Wren family to build themselves a nest in a crotch of the tree, like other birds.
"I'm sure," she told them, "you'd like such a home much better than this. There's no reason why you shouldn't be as fashionable as everybody else. You wouldn't have to look for a place to build. There's room enough right in this old cherry tree for a hundred happy homes if anybody wanted to build them."
"We like our house," Rusty Wren said.
"I wouldn't move, even if he wanted to," Mrs. Wren declared.
"Maybe you'd move because he doesn't want to," Miss Kitty Cat suggested.
But Mrs. Wren shook her head in a most decided way.
"No!" she said. "I'm satisfied with my house. And our neighbors would be far better off if they built as we do, inside a snug sort of box."
"You'll never know what you're missing," Miss Kitty remarked, "if you don't try an open nest sometime. Now, only yesterday I visited Jolly Robin's family over in the orchard. And their youngsters certainly did look beautiful. But you keep yours hidden inside that old syrup can where nobody can see them. It's a shame that the public can't have a chance to admire such fine nestlings as you must have in there."
Miss Kitty Cat was sitting under the cherry tree. And she looked up and smiled most agreeably at Mrs. Wren.
Rusty Wren looked thoughtful.
"There's something in what she says," he whispered to his wife. "It is too bad not to let the neighbors admire the finest nestlings in Pleasant Valley."
"You know they say a cat may look at a king," Miss Kitty simpered. "Well, a fortnight ago I went over to the pine woods and had a look at a Ruby Crowned Kinglet's family. So it seems only fair that I shouldn't be denied a look at your little wrenlets."
XII
JOLLY ROBIN'S NEWS
IN A WAY Miss Kitty Cat was a patient creature. She could play a waiting game. She spent hours watching rat-holes without growing restless.
So after her talk with Rusty Wren and his wife, when she urged them to give up their boxlike house and build themselves an open nest like most other birds, Miss Kitty left them.
"I'll let my words sink in," Miss Kitty muttered to herself. "Of course they'll want to talk things over privately."
It wasn't often that she made herself so agreeable to
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