‘Is he this little?’ said Pelle, and measured five centimetres with his paws.
‘Oh, a little bigger than that,’ said Concierge Kristina. ‘But you’ll have to go and visit them, so you can see for yourself.’
‘Where do they live now?’ wondered Pelle.
‘They live in a barn on the outskirts of town next to the edge of the forest,’ said Concierge Kristina.
‘Then they must be neighbours with Rickard from Rickomberga,’ said Pelle.
‘Not quite,’ said Kristina. ‘The Fritz family live in another part of the forest. If you walk along the wall of the Botanical Gardens, you’ll be heading in the right direction. But be careful if you come across the Angora cat, Lorenzo, because he likes to scratch!’
‘Thanks,’ said Pelle. ‘I’ll be on my way. Goodbye, Concierge Kristina. I hope you’re able to rent out the storage unit soon.’
‘Goodbye,’ said Kristina. ‘And if you know any quiet cat who’d fit into the basement community and who needs a nice flat, just send him my way!’
‘I’ll do just that,’ said Pelle. And off he trotted towards Berga. When he came to the garden wall, he jumped right up onto it. But he hadn’t walked far along the wall before he came across Lorenzo, the big, white Angora cat.
Lorenzo blocked his path, so Pelle was unable to go past him.
‘This is my wall,’ said Lorenzo, and he was such a fine Angora cat that he spoke with a Turkish accent. ‘So, I’d like to advise you,’ Lorenzo continued, ‘to jump down from the wall and continue along the road instead. Because otherwise, you might just feel my claws, and they are Angora claws. I’d just like to warn you of that in advance.’
Well, Pelle didn’t want to argue, so he humbly jumped down from the wall, much to Lorenzo’s great annoyance. And behind him, Pelle heard a loud Angora hiss.
But it wasn’t long until he reached Fritz and Frida’s barn on the edge of the forest. And he could hear wailing coming from inside. That had to be Fridolf!
19
Fritz and Frida and Fridolf
Yes, quite right! When Pelle looked into the barn, he saw Frida sitting and licking a little fellow, who looked exactly like Frida but much smaller and had perfectly blue eyes. It was Fridolf having his morning wash, and he looked very bothered, and wailed as Frida licked him in the face, for he didn’t like it at all.
‘Hello, hello!’ said Pelle. ‘I just thought I would come and pay you a quick visit out here on the edge of the forest.’
‘Welcome!’ said Frida and she finished her licking. ‘It’s nice to see you!’
‘Yes, it’s been a while,’ said Fritz, who appeared from behind a wooden pallet.
‘Congratulations on the birth of Fridolf,’ said Pelle.
‘Thank you,’ said Fritz. ‘He looks like his papa. Same nose and same paw pads.’
‘Can he catch rats yet?’ wondered Pelle.
‘Oh no, not yet,’ said Fritz, ‘but I’ll soon teach him how.’
‘And you’ve moved again!’ said Pelle.
‘Yes, it became too cramped at Upper Slottsgatan,’ said Fritz, ‘so we had to look around for a new apartment.’
‘We’re very happy here,’ twittered Frida. ‘There are plenty of rats, and we get milk from our neighbours.’
‘We thought we might have a little party here next Saturday,’ said Fritz. ‘You must join us, Pelle!’
‘Thank you, that would be fun,’ said Pelle. ‘Who else is coming?’
‘Well, Måns will be there, of course. And Bill and Bull. You know they’re friends of ours.’
‘Well, thank you, but I probably won’t come then,’ said Pelle.
‘Oh yes, you should!’ said Frida. ‘We’re also inviting Hilda and Hulda and Gullan from Arcadia, too.’
‘Thanks, well, then I will come,’ said Pelle.
‘Now, we’ve been thinking a lot about how to organise the party,’ said Frida.
‘Do you know what?’ said Pelle. ‘I think you should have a masquerade; it’s tremendous fun.’
‘What’s a masquerade?’ said Fritz.
‘Does it involve muskrats?’ said Frida.
‘No, you dress up in fancy dress,’ said Pelle. ‘They call it that because you have to wear a mask, not a “musk”. You hold something over your face, and then you dress up in funny fabrics and things, so you can’t recognise one another. Then you have to guess who you are, and then you guess wrong and then it’s funny and everybody laughs.’
‘Oh! What fun!’ said little Frida and clapped her paws together delightedly. ‘Yes, of course we must have a masquerade. But how should we all dress up?’
‘You’ll have to come up with that yourself,’ said Pelle. ‘You can dress up as an American Indian or as a princess or a clown or a dog.’
‘Oh no!’ cried Frida, and Fridolf, who had already learnt what the word ‘dog’ meant, hissed as loudly as he could.
‘Well, you’ll certainly come up with something fun to dress up as,’ said Pelle. ‘And then tell everybody you invite that they have to come to the party in fancy dress, so they can’t be recognised!’
‘This is definitely going to be fun,’ said Fritz.
‘I’ve already decided to dress up as a princess,’ said Frida.
‘Shhh, you’re not meant to talk about it,’ said Fritz. ‘It’s supposed to be a surprise!’
‘Oh yes, of course!’ said Frida. ‘I didn’t think of that.’
*
The next day, Fritz and Frida were in town, while Fridolf had his afternoon nap in the barn. They ran into Måns and Bill and Bull in the old shed at Åsgränd Alley.
‘Jo, so the thing is,’ said Frida, ‘that we were thinking of having a party.’
‘We were thinking of inviting you to a maske… mask… what’s it called … a maskerall!’ said Frida.
‘Frida means a masquerade,’ corrected Fritz. ‘You’re all warmly invited to a masquerade at our place on Saturday evening at five o’clock.’
‘A masquerade – what sort of nonsense is that?’ said Måns, looking angry.
‘Don’t you know what a maskerall is?’ said Frida.
‘Masquerade,’ whispered Fritz.
‘Yes, a masquerade, yes,’ continued Frida. ‘Yes, it’s a party, where you hold things in front of your face, and then you guess what the thing is meant to be, I mean, you don’t know who you are, because we’ll all be draped in bits of material, and so you guess wrong, and then it’s tremendous fun.’
‘That just sounds stupid,’ said Måns, and wrinkled his nose.
‘Frida is always a bit scatterbrained,’ said Fritz. ‘The main thing, in any case, is that we all dress up in fancy dress, so we can’t recognise each other.’
‘What’s the point of that?’ said Måns.
‘Jo, you understand, don’t you,’ said Fritz, ‘that it’ll be fun, when you guess the wrong person.’
‘So, who else are you inviting?’ asked Måns.
‘Well,’ said Frida, ‘we thought we’d invite Hilda and Hulda and Rickard from Rickomberga and Gullan from Arcadia and we also thought we’d invite Pelle No-Tail, that’s to say, we’ve already invited him.’
At first, Måns scowled, but shortly afterwards, an evil grin spread over his face.
‘Aha!’ he said, ‘so Pelle No-Tail is coming! Well, then it’s quite likely to be a fun masquerade.’
‘See, lots of fun, that’s what it’ll be,’ said Bill.
‘Fun is just the right word,’ said Bull.
‘All three of us will be there,’ said Måns.
20
The masquerade in the barn on the edge of the forest
And so Saturday came around. Out in the barn on the edge of the forest, Frida was tidying up and decorating. Fritz had brought in six herring, three pork cutlets and lots of milk. Yes, he had even managed to organise a slurp of cream. ‘But I’ll only bring that out if I absolutely have to,’ Fritz thought and hid it behind a drape.
Fritz had dressed up as
an American Indian with the help of a stack of feathers he had found in the forest. Frida had dressed herself up in a piece of floral material she had found in a cupboard, and on her head she wore a golden paper crown. She was now Princess Frideborg, and she was certain nobody would be able to recognise her.
The first guest to arrive was a sailor in a sailor’s cap and sailor’s pants.
‘Welcome!’ said Frida to the sailor, but then Fritz whispered: ‘You’re so silly! Don’t you understand, you shouldn’t be saying welcome, because the sailor will obviously know you’re Frida!’
‘Jaså, oh yes, of course!’ said Frida. ‘Yes, I mean, you’re not at all welcome, but in any case, Fritz and I would like …’
‘The American Indian and I,’ corrected Fritz.
‘Yes, of course, the American Indian and I think it’s just lovely to see a sailor out here at our place,’ said Frida. ‘Who is the sailor?’ she whispered to Fritz.
‘Can’t you tell it’s Gullan from Arcadia?’ said Fritz. ‘But we mustn’t let on that we know, because you’re not supposed to be able to recognise anybody.’
And then in came Red Riding Hood in a red dress and a red hood, which was so big that it drooped down, covering her whole face. But there were a couple of holes for the eyes in the hood, so Rickard could still see. For it was indeed Rickard from Rickomberga who had dressed up as Red Riding Hood.
The next guest was dressed up in a long black cloak, with a top hat and glasses.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, and bowed. ‘I am the Mastermind Cat who knows everything, and among other things, I know that Frida is Rickard from Rickomberga’s half-cousin’s aunt’s double-third cousin.’
‘That’s a great outfit,’ thought Rickard, ‘but he smells so terribly of farmyard that it must be Murre from Skogstibble.’
And now there came a clown dressed in big harlequin checks. He jumped about here and there, did somersaults and tap danced and generally carried on. Soon afterwards came a hunched old woman in a grey shawl. She stumbled and limped, but every now and again she did a little tap dance, too.
‘It’s very odd that Hilda and Hulda can never stop tap dancing,’ whispered Rickard from Rickomberga to Fritz.
‘Shhh,’ whispered Fritz. ‘You’re not supposed to let on that you recognise anybody.’
The next guest to arrive was Pelle. He had dressed himself up as a polar bear, with the help of a magnificent piece of white fur.
Last of all came three policemen in cat-police uniform. One of the policemen was bigger than the other two, who were a little smaller.
‘I am the head of the Royal Cat Police and these are my constables,’ said the big policeman.
‘Yes, we’re constables!’ said the first smaller one.
‘See, constables is exactly what we are,’ said the other smaller one.
‘Now we’re all here, I’m going to read out a poem that I’ve written all by myself,’ said Frida. And so she read:
I am Princess Frideborg.
Welcome to our fancy ball
In among the pine trees tall.
Welcome to our maskerall!
Fritz pinched her.
‘You should have shown me the rhyme first,’ he whispered. ‘You know you just said maskerall.’
‘But how else am I going to make it rhyme with “tall”?’ said Frida.
‘Friends!’ said Fritz aloud. ‘Frida, I mean, Princess Frideborg, wanted to say this:
I am Princess Frideborg.
Welcome to our fancy ball,
In the forest’s calm and shade.
Welcome to our masquerade!
‘You don’t need shade in winter,’ said the biggest policeman, scornfully. ‘So, are we going to get any food now?’
‘Of course, straight away,’ twittered Princess Frideborg. ‘I’ll fetch the herring, milk and pork cutlets immediately.’
21
The polar bear and the policemen
The food was laid out and the tall policeman helped himself immediately to the biggest herring and the juiciest pork cutlet.
‘Masquerades are certainly a lot of fun,’ said Rickard from Rickomberga.
‘Aren’t we going to guess who everybody is now?’ said Murre from Skogstibble. ‘Then I thought I’d tell a farmyard story.’
‘Yes, well, I would like to say,’ said the tall policeman, ‘that everybody here has disguised themselves very well, except one person, who couldn’t trick us, no matter what he does. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m referring to Pelle No-Tail. He’s the only one of us who has no tail, so it’s hardly difficult to see which one is Pelle out of everybody here. Hello, Mister Polar Bear – you’re the only one here who doesn’t have a tail! Pelle is sprung!’
‘He is, so to speak, sprung!’ said the first small policeman.
‘Sprung is just what he is,’ said the second small policeman.
And everybody laughed.
At first, Pelle felt quite upset that he had been identified, but he soon plucked up his courage and said: ‘Of course, it’s obvious a polar bear can’t have a tail! It would look terribly silly if a polar bear had a long tail dangling around. So, I don’t really understand what you’re laughing at.’
‘The boy’s right,’ said Gullan from Arcadia. ‘Polar bears never have a tail.’
‘They just have a little handle,’ said Rickard. ‘But who’s this little bundle here?’
It was little Fridolf, making an appearance. His nose was completely white and big white drops sat in his little whiskers, so it was quite clear what he’d been up to. He had gone behind the drape without permission and drunk the cream!
‘Fridolf!’ whispered Fritz. ‘Go to bed at once! Little cats should not be up so late. It’s already six o’clock!’
But Fridolf sat himself down in the middle of the floor and pointed with his paw to the big policeman and said loud and clear: ‘That’s Uncle Måns!’
Everybody laughed, but Måns exploded.
‘What kind of nonsense is this!’ said Måns. ‘What’s this miserable vermin suggesting! Am I supposed to be a policeman, or I mean is the policeman supposed to be me, or what am I saying, are the policeman and I supposed to be …’
‘And that’s Uncle Bill and Uncle Bull over there,’ said Fridolf, pointing to the two short policeman.
‘I think you’re right, there,’ said the first short policeman.
‘There’s some truth in that,’ said the other short policeman.
‘Dumbommar! You fools!’ whispered Måns to them. ‘Don’t you get it? You’re not supposed to agree with him!’
‘Yes, but we are Bill and Bull,’ said Bill.
‘Bull and Bill, that’s us,’ said Bull.
Everybody laughed, but Måns turned almost green with rage.
But then Rickard from Rickomberga clapped his paws and said: ‘Do you know what? I think we might as well say who we all are at the same time!’
‘That’s Aunt Gullan from Arcadia,’ said Fridolf and pointed with his little paw to the sailor.
‘Yes, well, there you are,’ said Rickard. ‘When even little Fridolf recognises us, it’s obvious we all know who we are.’
‘Yes, indeed we do,’ said Gullan. ‘That clown over there, for example, is Hilda!’
‘And that old woman in the grey shawl is Hulda!’ said Murre from Skogstibble.
Everybody laughed.
‘But, I have to say one thing,’ said Frida, ‘I don’t recognise the Magician Cat. I don’t understand who it can be.’
‘But surely you can tell he smells of barnyard,’ said Rickard.
‘Oooh! Is it Rickard from Rickomberga!’ said Frida.
Now everybody laughed except Rickard.
‘But you know, now I think we should come up with something fun to do,’ said Fritz. ‘Can’t we play a fun game or do some barn dancing or something?’
‘Masquerades are stupid,’ said Måns. ‘Come on, Bill and Bull. We’re going home. We don’t want to hang around at such a ch
ildish affair!’
‘No, this was really too childish!’ said Bill.
‘Too childish is exactly what it was!’ said Bull.
And so the whole police force marched away looking affronted.
But the others didn’t even miss them.
‘I’ve never been fond of the cat-police,’ said Pelle. ‘Human police are better. I know one who always used to pat me on Upper Slottsgatan.’
And the party continued. Everybody had fun and enjoyed themselves – while Måns and Bill and Bull sat and sulked in the old shed at Åsgränd Alley.
And they’re perfectly welcome to sit there and sulk!
Further Adventures of Pelle No-Tail Page 6