the ring all round he wrote the Lord's Prayer, and when he had done that he wasn't afraid—no, not if Old Nick himself came.
So at dead of night the door flew open with a bang, and there came in such a swarm of black cats you couldn't count them; they were as thick as ants. They were not long before they had put a big pot on the fireplace and set light under it, and the pot began to boil and bubble, and as for the broth, it was for all the world like pitch and tar.
"Ha! ha!" thought the tailor, "that's your game, is it!"
And he had hardly thought this before one of the cats thrust her paw under the pot and tried to upset it.
"Paws off, pussy," said the tailor, "you'll burn your whiskers."
"Hark to the tailor, who says 'Paws off, pussy,' to me," said the cat to the other cats, and in a trice they all ran away from the fireplace, and began to dance and jump round the circle; and then all at once the same cat stole off to the fireplace and tried to upset the pot.
"Paws off, pussy, you'll burn your whiskers," bawled out the tailor again, and again he scared them from the fireplace.
"Hark to the tailor, who says 'Paws off, pussy,'" said the cat to the others, and again they all began to dance and jump round the circle, and then all at once they were off again to the pot, trying to upset it.
"Paws off, pussy, you'll burn your whiskers," screamed out the tailor the third time, and this time
