The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse

Quick Answer

Why This Story Works for Bedtime

It’s cozy and domestic, with gentle humor. The theme—making your space feel safe and calm—maps perfectly to bedtime routines and winding down.

Story Synopsis

Mrs. Tittlemouse lives in a small underground house and takes great pride in keeping it neat. She sweeps, dusts, and arranges everything just so. Her home is her calm place. But the forest has other plans. One by one, uninvited visitors arrive: insects that track in dirt, creatures that drip water or leave crumbs, guests who don’t notice the mess they create. Mrs. Tittlemouse tries to be polite, but the chaos grows. Her tidy rooms become noisy and cluttered, and her patience wears thin. The story follows her attempts to manage the situation—cleaning, asking gently, and finally insisting. She learns that kindness doesn’t require surrendering your peace. She can care about others and still set boundaries. Eventually, Mrs. Tittlemouse clears her house, sends the worst troublemakers on their way, and restores her home to the quiet order she loves. The tale ends with her back in her clean, calm space—ready to rest. It’s a sweet reminder that home can be a sanctuary, and that it’s okay to protect the calm you need.

Story Excerpt

Once upon a time there was a little wood - mouse named Mrs. Tittlemouse. She lived in a bank under a hedge. It was such a funny, wonderful house — yards and yards of sandy passages, winding this way and that, all among the hedge roots. There were storerooms and nut - cellars and seed - cellars. There was a kitchen, a parlour, a pantry, and a larder. And best of all, there was Mrs. Tittlemouse’s bedroom, where she slept in a tiny box bed. Mrs. Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy, particular little mouse. She liked her soft sandy floors swept smooth, with not a crumb or speck out of place. Day after day you could hear her little broom whisking, and her dust - pan clattering. Sometimes visitors wandered in by mistake. One day a beetle lost its way in the passages. “ Shuh! shuh! little dirty feet! ” said Mrs. Tittlemouse, briskly, as she hurried him along with her dust - pan. Another day a little old ladybird ran up and down the hallway in a red spotty cloak. “ Your house is on fire, Mother Ladybird! ” cried Mrs. Tittlemouse. “ Fly away home to your children! ” And another day, when rain pattered on the hedge…

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