I wish they would let me put them with the kits , and have a nursery full of babies . Would n't it be nice to see them all grow up ? '' said Daisy . `` I 'm afraid they would n't grow up , if Mrs. Purr lived with them , '' began Wee , but got no further ; for just then the cat bounced into the drawer , and ate up the mouselings in four mouthfuls . Daisy screamed ; the mother-mouse gave a doleful squeak , and ran into a hole ; and Aunt Wee tried to save the little ones . But it was too late : Purr had got her breakfast , and sat washing her face after it , as if she had enjoyed it . `` Never mind , Daisy : she would have caught them by and by , and it 's as well to have them taken care of before they do any harm . There is the bell : do n't cry , but come and tell papa what a fine romp we 've had . '' `` It does n't rain , but it 's dreadfully wet ; so we 'll go to the dairy , and see if any sprites are hiding there , '' said Wee next day ; and to the dairy they went . A pleasant place it was , -- so clean and cool , and as full of sweet odors as if the ghosts of buttercups and clover still haunted the milk which they had helped to make . Dolly was churning , and Polly was making up butter in nice little pats . Both were very kind , and let Daisy peep everywhere . All round on white shelves stood the shining pans , full of milk ; the stone floor was wet ; and a stream of water ran along a narrow bed through the room , and in it stood jars of butter , pots of cream , and cans of milk . The window was open , and hop-vines shook their green bells before it . The birds sang outside , and maids sang inside , as the churn and the wooden spatters kept time : `` Brindle and Bess , White-star and Jess -- Come , butter , come ! Eat cowslips fine , Red columbine -- Come , butter , come ! Grasses green and tall , Clover , best of all , -- Come , butter , come ! And give every night Milk sweet and white -- Come , butter , come ! Make the churn go , See the lumps grow ! -- Come , butter , come ! ''
Daisy sang also , and turned the handle till she was tired ; then she helped XXXXX with the butter , and made four little pats , -- one stamped with a star for papa , one with a rose for mamma , a strawberry for Aunt Wee , and a cow for herself .
Bess Brindle Jess Polly buttercups columbine mouthfuls night pats spatters