For anybody that was so faint, Moses Mouse ran to the box of potatoes very spryly. His wife was already inside it, eating.  
"I'll have my supper first," he announced, "while you stay outside on the cellar bottom and watch for Miss Snooper."
 
"I'm just as hungry as you are," his wife objected. "I don't want to wait. You know you'll be a long time at your supper." What she really meant was that Moses Mouse would be sure to overeat.
 
"Very well!" he said. "But don't blame me if Miss Snooper up on us."
 
Thereupon Moses Mouse fell to right greedily. Although there were that he liked more than raw potatoes, he was hungry enough to enjoy them—and not even ask for salt. And his wife, too, ate almost as as he did. The pale moonlight, streaming through the cellar window, lighted their banquet hall with its ghostly gleams. They enjoyed the cool dampness of the place. They liked its musty smell. And Moses Mouse remarked—between mouthfuls—that they hadn't had such an elegant feast for weeks. "It's quite like old times," he said.
 
Mrs. Mouse agreed with him. Indeed, they their meal so that they forgot everything else. And if Moses Mouse hadn't happened to glance up and see two eyes gleaming at him from over the edge of the box he would have had no reason for leaving his meal unfinished. At the moment, his mouth was so full of raw potato that he could scarcely say a word.
 
"Miss Snooper!" he , all but choking over the words. And he vanished in a twinkling, hoping, of course, that Mrs. Mouse would take the hint and disappear too, ............