Quickly they followed him across the village green to three old gabled houses. The baker’s was in the middle, between the butcher’s and the chimney-sweep’s. The baker and the butcher and the sweep were all widowers and, as it was Sunday, had already gone to spend Christmas with their married daughters, which was just as well.

The baker’s shop would not have been nearly big enough to house all the pups, but luckily there was a large bakehouse at the back. And soon every pup was safely in and enjoying a splendid sausage roll. Pongo and Missis chatted to the Collie while they ate. He shook his head worriedly when he heard about the gipsies.

A narrow escape,€ he said. The trouble is that Dalmatians are such noticeable dogs. Ninety-nine of you together are spectacular though I mean it as a compliment. You’d be much safer if you were black.€

Like that nice little pup over there,€ said Missis.

What pup?€ The Collie looked across the bakehouse, then said sharply, That pup doesn’t belong in this village. Who are you, my lad? Where have you come from?€

The black pup did not answer. Instead, he came running to Missis and butted her in the stomach.

Here, hold hard, young man!€ said Missis. Then she gasped. Goodness, it is! It isn’t! It is Roly Poly!€

The fat puppy who was always getting into mischief had found his way into a shed at the back of the sweep’s house and had a fight with a bag of soot.

Mercy, you’ll need some washing!€ said his mother.

Then it was that one of the keenest brains in Dogdom had one of its brainiest waves.

Roly Poly,€ said Pongo, was there a lot of soot at the sweep’s?

Bags and bags,€ said Roly Poly.

Then we are all going to be black dogs,€ said Pongo.

Your husband is a genius, said the Collie to Missis as he showed them all into the sweep’s shed.

There was any amount of soot waiting to have done with it whatever sweeps do do with soot.

Ten dogs forward at a time!€ commanded Pongo. Pups roll! Pups rub noses!

In a very short time there were ninety-seven pitchblack pups.

And now, my love,€ said Pongo to Missis. Let us take a roll in the soot.€

Frankly, Missis did not fancy it. She hated soiling her gleaming white hair and losing its smart contrast with her beautiful black spots. But when Pongo had helped her with the final touches he said: Why, Missis, as a black dog, you’re slimmer than ever. You’re positively svelte!€ and then she felt much better.

Then Pongo said, How does soot suit me?€

Suit soots you beautifully,€ said Missis, and all the pups roared with laughter at her mistake.