Mrs Grey Mouse brushed her three children until their coats shone.
“There， now，” she said. “You can go out to play.”
Timmy， Tammy and Tommy decided to go to the flour mill， although they knew they ought not to go there， because old Black Cat was always about.
Once inside the flour mill， they began their picnic.
All at once， Timmy pricked up his ears.
“I hear soft paddy paws. Black Cat is coming，” he whispered.
So Timmy， Tommy and Tammy scampered away as fast as they could.
“Quick-run up here，” gasped Tammy. And the three little mice scrambled into a big sack of flour.
Old Black Cat came prowling along.
The three little mice lay quite still. There was flour in their ears and in their mouths！
At last Timmy peeped out. “He's gone！”
They all scrambled out of the sack， but， instead of grey mice， they were now white！
“Shoo！” said Mrs Greymouse， when they arrived home. “You don't live here.”
She shooed the three little mice right outside. They looked at each other sadly.
Just then， splish-splash！-down came the rain.
“We have no umbrellas，” wailed Tommy.
Luckily the shower was soon over， and the three mice shook themselves dry. Then they began to laugh.
“Why， the rain's washed away the flour！” said Timmy. “We're all grey again！”
“So now we can go home to dinner，” squeaked Tammy. “Hurrah！”