A cat befriended a mouse, professing such great love and friendship that the mouse agreed they should live and keep house together. "But we must prepare for winter," said the cat, "or we'll go hungry. You, little mouse, cannot go everywhere safely, lest you be caught in a trap."
The mouse agreed. They bought a pot of fat but didn't know where to store it. After much thought, the cat suggested, "The church is safest; no one dares steal from there. We'll hide it beneath the altar and not touch it until we truly need it."
Soon, the cat craved the fat. She told the mouse, "My cousin has a newborn son and asks me to be godmother. He's white with brown spots. Let me go today, and you mind the house." "Yes, go," said the mouse. "If you get something good, think of me. I'd like a drop of sweet christening wine too."
This was a lie. The cat had no cousin. She went straight to the church, stole to the pot, and licked off the top layer of fat. She then lounged on rooftops, sunbathed, and licked her lips thinking of the fat, returning only at evening.
"You're back," said the mouse. "A merry day, no doubt?" "All went well," replied the cat. "What name did they give the child?" "Top off!" said the cat coolly. "Top off!" cried the mouse. "What an odd, uncommon name! Is it usual in your family?" "What does it matter?" said the cat. "It's no worse than 'Crumb-stealer,' as your godchildren are called."
Not long after, the cat felt another longing. "Do me a favor," she said to the mouse. "Mind the house alone again. I'm asked to be godmother once more; the child has a white ring around its neck, so I cannot refuse." The good mouse consented. The cat crept to the church and devoured half the pot of fat. "Nothing tastes as good as what you keep for yourself," she said, satisfied. At home, the mouse asked, "And what was this child named?" "Half-done," answered the cat. "Half-done! I've never heard such a name! I'll wager it's not on the calendar!"
The cat's mouth soon watered for more. "All good things come in threes," she said. "I'm asked to be godmother again. The child is all black except for white paws—a rare sight. You'll let me go, won't you?" "Top-off! Half-done!" answered the mouse. "Such odd names make me thoughtful." "You sit at home in your dark fur," said the cat, "filling your head with fancies because you never go out by day."
While the cat was gone, the mouse cleaned the house. The greedy cat, however, entirely emptied the pot of fat. "When everything's eaten, one finds peace," she told herself. Well-fed, she returned at night. The mouse asked the third child's name. "It won't please you more than the others," said the cat. "He is called All-gone." "All-gone!" cried the mouse. "That's the most suspicious name! I've never seen it in print. What can it mean?" She shook her head, curled up, and went to sleep.
After this, no one invited the cat to be godmother. When winter came and food was scarce, the mouse remembered their provision. "Come, cat," she said. "Let's go to our pot of fat—we shall enjoy it." "Yes," answered the cat. "You'll enjoy it as much as sticking your dainty tongue out the window."
They set out. The pot was in its place, but empty. "Alas!" said the mouse. "Now I see! You are a true friend! You devoured it all while standing godmother. First 'top off,' then 'half done,' then—" "Hold your tongue!" cried the cat. "One more word and I'll eat you too!" "All gone" was already on the poor mouse's lips. Scarcely had she spoken it before the cat sprang, seized her, and swallowed her down. Verily, that is the way of the world.