Then Simpkin again said, "Miaw?" and took the groat and the pipkin, and went out into the dark.
The tailor was very tired and beginning to be ill. He sat down by the hearth and talked to himself about that wonderful coat.
"I shall make my fortune—to be cut bias—the Mayor of Gloucester is
to be married on Christmas Day in the morning, and he hath
ordered a coat and an embroidered waistcoat—to be lined with
yellow taffeta—and the taffeta sufficeth; there is no more left over in
snippets than will serve to make tippets for mice——"
Then the tailor started; for suddenly, interrupting him, from the dresser at the other side of the kitchen came a number of little
Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!
"Now what can that be?" said the Tailor of Gloucester, jumping up
from his chair. The dresser was covered with crockery and pipkins,
willow pattern plates, and tea-cups and mugs.