Thistle had been placed between her Aunt Fuschia and her cousin Dappledew, the one who suggested the feast in the first place.
The Woodwinds may have been argumentative mice with the attention spans of Dibbuns, but they could cook! Sure, the cakes were a little lopsided, and one batch of cookies looked suspicious, but it all tasted wonderful.
And Thistle tasted it all by having a spoon shoved in her mouth again and again. Dappledew had wanted to be the big girl, and now was feeding the mousemaid. Thistle suspected she had been even worse as a Dibbun.
"She just likes being the mommy," Fuschia chuckled.
The mousemaid seethed inwardly, but kept a smile on her face. It was hard though, and she almost retched when the spoon went too far back.
Patriarch Firmbough had finally figured out what was going on. He tapped a wineglass for attention. "We would like to welco-" he began.
There was mass chaos at Thistle's end of the table. She had accidentally tipped over a vat of strawberry fizz, soaking Fuschia. The squirrel's hearing wasn't so impaired that he couldn't hear the irate mice from across the room.
"Clumsy! You're as graceful as a herd of wild rats!"
"Herd of wild rats? Don't you think that analogy is a little iffy?"
Soon, the whole family was involved. Even though this wasn't their fight, they took sides and argued with a vengance.
"It was an accident, I tell ya!"
"Hhhmph! Prob'ly looked at the little maid's eyes the wrong way!"
"Nah, she said she'd get oleander for that!"
The vicious war of words had begun.
~***~
Everyone had settled down once Thistle had bluntly told off Fuschia. She was now chatting amiably about strawberries to whoever would listen.
"Of the genus Fragaria...fascinating!"
"Quite, Miss Longfaith." Firmbough had to hold his breath to stifle a yawn. He had placed himself by the mousemaid in order to prevent any other fights, but he had quickly found out his mistake. The squirrel hastily made an excuse to get away. "Er, yes, it's getting late, I had better be...going. Yes, going!" He scampered off as fast as his old bones would allow.
A confused look crossed Thistle's face, but she shrugged and continued eating and chatting. It was good to have him off her back, anyway.
Fuschia had had enough. This maid was boring the whole family, even Gramma Hope was snoring instead of cleaning!
"Ah, missie, it's time for bed! It's too late for one of thirteen seasons to be up!"
"But...Dappledew..."
"She'll be going too!" In fact, it would be nice to get rid of the annoyingly smart mousemaid and her daughter all at once. The mousewife roughly shoved the babe into Thistle's arms, and practically pushed her out the door. She gave her directions to her house, and set the mousemaid off.
~***~
The creature gazed at the mousemaid and mousebabe and chuckled. Ha! That maid would get a surprise, oh yes! She settled her cloak around herself more comfortably, and tried not to rustle the brush. Thistle opened the door of a prim cottage, and shut it with a bang. Perfect!
