Meanwhile Count Karl had been explaining to his wife that he meant to adopt Babette, and bring her up as his own daughter.
"A witch's offspring without a family pedigree," exclaimed his wife, "must I be mother to a witch's brat?"
Just then the "witch's brat" entered the room, making a funny bobbing curtsy, as nurse had taught her to do, just outside the door. Very pretty she looked in her low-necked, white-embroidered frock, with the cherry-coloured sash, her face flushed after the bath. Even her Ladyship was bound to acknowledge that she was quite a lovely child.
"What is your name, child?" she said condescendingly.
"I don't love you," said Babette, and stuck out her tongue.
"Babette," said the Count sternly, "if you are a _good_ little girl, and do as you are told, you may stay here with us, and this lady will be your mother, and I your father. Then you will be brought up as a lady instead of becoming a little heathen and wild girl of the woods."
Babette stood still a moment, as if she were considering the matter; then she gravely kissed his Lordship's hand. The Countess extended her lily-white fingers, and Babette kissed them as well, but timidly; for she feared a rebuff.
Just at this moment a noise of scratching and miewing was heard at the window.
Babette flew to open it, and in walked--what do you think?--seven cats with their tails in the air rubbing themselves comfortably against the window-pane.
"O my dear Fotchen, dear Silverpaws, how glad I am to see you!" exclaimed Babette, and she kissed them all.
"_What next?_" said the poor Countess, holding up her hands in horror!
In a few minutes there came a rap at the window, seven times repeated. These were the ravens. However, they did not venture into the room; they were afraid of the big gun that stood in the corner. They flew straight up into a tall fir-tree, and there they chattered away as usual, hidden by the dark branches.
The funniest sight of all was the arrival of the poultry. The cocks walked first with an air of importance and authority; the baby bantams sat on their mothers' backs; the whole procession toiled up the hill to the Castle and entered by the yard gate. The servants watched them with astonishment; they too said: "What next?" However, no one grumbled, not even the Countess when she heard of it; for such guests were welcome. The old witch's hens were renowned for the size of their eggs; they had often been bought for use at the Castle.
