There were once four crows that sat in an ash-tree near an old farm-house. It wasn’t long before the owl that lived hard by looked out of his window under the eaves of the loft, and said to them:—

“Good day to you.”

“Good day,” answered the crows.

“Have you any spare time?” asked the owl. “Then I can put you in the way of earning an honest penny.”

“Indeed, we’d like to,” said the four, for the snow was lying old and thick over the whole country, and there wasn’t much to be earned.

“My good comrade, Tom Grimalkin, is dead,” said the owl. “Now, I was thinking you might carry him to his grave. When my old friend was alive, he often used to say to me: ‘Jan Owl,’ he would say, ‘you must give me a decent burial. A respectable life deserves a respectable funeral,’ he used to say, for he was a clever cat. Now, look here! You four have good black coats on, and are honest people—”

“Come along, then,” said the crows, and crept in through the owl-hole after him, one by one.

Now it was pretty dark in the loft, and the thatched roof was low, but they could see Tom Grimalkin where he lay. He was stretched at full length in the hay, without a move in him. The owl took up his post at his friend’s head, and the crows hopped along, all askew, just as they do in windy weather among the young wheat.

“Many’s the mouse we’ve caught in this loft together, Tom,” said the owl. “We’ve always been good friends, and many’s the spree we’ve had with one another. But that’s all past and gone now. Oh, Tom! Tom, old fellow! How you’d rejoice, and what a spring you’d make, if you were only alive, and I said to you, ‘Tom, four stupid black crows are standing round you this minute!’”

Then up sprang the Tom-Cat, and there was a crow-hunt, the like of which you’ve never seen.

“Didn’t I tell you that owls were more like cats than birds? Why, even that silly song that your uncle sings sometimes, about the owl and the pussy-cat that went to sea in a pea-green boat, and lived on honey, says so. I don’t think that any self-respecting cat would eat honey, but the rest of it’s true enough. This isn’t getting on with my next story, though, and directly I’m through I’ve got to go to Cat-Land. There’s to be a grand ball at the Palace to-night, and I’m to open it with my cousin, the Princess Miaoulina. You never heard, did you, about the way my grandfather happened to learn that he was King of the Cats? Well, then, I’ll tell it to you.”