then the woman was very very angry, and let down her hair and put more wood on the fire and brought out the broad blade-bone of the shoulder of mutton and began to make a magic that should prevent her from saying a third word in praise of the cat. it was not a singing magic, best beloved, it was a still magic; and by and by the cave grew so still that a little wee-wee mouse crept out of a corner and ran across the floor.