mice

The mice that in these mountains dwell,

Mice among the lumber.

There are no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very like a mouse, you know.

She is such a dear quiet thing,” Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, “and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face—and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse—and she’s such a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your pardon!” cried Alice again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt certain it must be really offended.