"Where's the kitchen?" demanded Mombi with a wicked grin. Already she had thought of a way out of her difficulties. Once in the catty kitchen, really only an enclosed corner of the garden with a stone fireplace and iron crane, Mombi set quickly to work. Filling the largest cauldron with rich cream from the fountain, she poured in all the boxes of rice she had in her basket and all the raisins. Then, setting it over the fire, which two tortoise shell cats kept at blazing point, she stirred and muttered and muttered and stirred, and just before it was done dropped in the contents of another of her purple cans. Meanwhile, news of the coming treat had spread, and by the time the pudding was finished, the fences were simply crowded with cats, their eyes showing like green balls of fire in the darkness. There were only a few dim lanterns in Catty Corners, for cats can see quite as well by night as by day. Each cat had brought a saucer, and forming in an orderly procession, they lined up before the old witch, while Mombi ladled out helping after helping of the pudding, pausing every now and then to wipe her forehead on her sleeve and grin wickedly to herself. None of the cats dared eat until the Queen arrived, and when her Highness finally did appear, a long sigh of anticipation went up from the fences. Mombi had saved a particularly large helping for the Queen, and when her Maltese Majesty lowered her chin over her saucer and all the other cats started lapping up the pudding, Mombi could hardly restrain her chuckles. The pudding really was delicious and the Queen lapped faster and faster, as did the rest, so that in scarcely a moment the saucers were quite empty and the company quite the reverse. With half-closed eyes the Queen lifted her head to thank Mombi but before she could purr a purr, she, and that whole collection of cats, simply catapulted into the air and, while Mombi held her sides and rocked to and fro with malicious merriment, they rolled and tumbled toward the clouds like balloons released from their strings. No wonder! In that purple can was a baking powder powerful enough to raise an army--baking powder that the old witch had been collecting and refining for twenty years. "Hah," snorted Mombi, rubbing her hands with satisfaction. Leaning over the fountain, she took a long drink of cream, for stirring the pudding had made her mighty thirsty. Then, without thought of her luckless victims, she picked up her basket and hobbled off to the summer house. Snip, after waiting in terror for the cats to come for Pajuka, had finally dropped into an uneasy slumber, and when Mombi flashed a small lantern in his eyes he almost jumped out of his jacket. "Come along, you little lazy bones," grumbled the witch, jerking him roughly by the sleeve. "Is that silly old goose asleep too?"