I thought (and I can assure you a cat's opinion is of some value) that the Queen might be proud to see such beautiful, refined, and highly educated people at her drawing-room. To be sure, there were no décolleté toilets, but then it was a proof of the good sense of the people. Of course the Queen would not admit cats to her receptions; it would not be safe. The bones would be a temptation, and I fear cats would not respect even elderly bones, or spare them though decked with diamonds. I am happy to say that my party was purely democratic; they were really all my equals. The back parlor door was thrown open, and we were in full view of them all. The three boys in ragged clothes, bare legs, old shoes, were as hard a looking crew as ever accompanied a hand-organ. Will had the organ strapped to his back, and I sat upright on it. I was tied to Will's arm, and Josie held another string, for they could not trust me, fearing I would run under the sofa, at the expense of my tall hat and my dignity. We were greeted with a burst of applause. The boys so successfully assumed the street gamin air, and looked so thoroughly demoralized, as they pulled their forelocks in recognition of the greeting, that no wonder they brought down the house, and for a short time obscured my august self. Stacy and Will gave a song in nasal style, pretending all the while to grind the organ, while I was mounted on Will's shoulder, swelling with importance. Then they began "Yankee Doodle." Josie shook the castanets, Stacy beat the drum, Will ground the organ and sang, while they all danced like street Arabs. I was perfectly beside myself. Oh, if I had only been Balaam's ass, wouldn't I have made a speech! I ran to and fro on the organ, then rolled over and over, my hat on one ear, my coat up my back, around my neck, and my tail wagging from the red pants, in fine style. The boys looked on in wonder, for it is needless to say that this act was not on the programme, but an impromptu act of my own--and it was the crown of the performance. There were a few songs after this, but nothing like our "national air." We could rest our laurels on that. I was handed around, kissed, and admired to my heart's content. My clothes were pronounced perfect; and then, when the boys went upstairs to change their clothes, my mistress removed my finery, much against my will, and I made it very hard for her by sticking my claws into the clothes as she tried to take them off. Chester and Henry A., with Karl, were the ushers, and they opened the door of the hall room, where the tree was displayed in all its beauties. Mrs. Rice made a little speech, while Miss Milly held me tight, for, regardless of etiquette, I was eager to rush for the tree.