How Miss Mouse cried over a locket holding a dead person's hair.

For Miss Mouse, a leather glove she always clutched when in fear.

I had stopped work, and with everyone else, including Miss Mouse, stood staring down at this latest arrival.

Miss Mouse brought me a white dove in a wire fish trap that had been bent into a sort of cage.

Miss Mouse checked on me periodically during the morning, reminding me to stay out of sight and keep quiet.

Miss Mouse pushed through the reeds separating his sleeping area from mine.

Miss Mouse was fidgeting nervously with his weapon as he strained to see through the reeds.

Miss Mouse decided that she must have Simon.

Miss Mouse was back, poking her little gray nose around the door frame from the direction of the kitchen.

Frog rides to ask Miss Mouse to marry him.