Prologue: An Eggcellent Plan Dawn was breaking in Little Ditch and, as the light crept its way across Goose Glade, all seemed quiet. But if you listened carefully, deep underground, something could be heard. Two shadows--with beady little eyes--were whispering. They plotted and schemed until . A dastardly plan began to take shape. Then the shadows were on the move. Their feet PIT PAT PIT PATTED down dimly lit hallways to a room filled with secrets and surprises. Their beady eyes glinted with mischief as they pulled on their disguises and then .
the two shadows stepped out into the dawn. PITTER PATTER PATTER PITTER They ducked under drooping leaves and sneaked past cobwebs that glistened with the morning dew. They PIT PAT PITTER PATTERED over leaves and twigs to the place where they would wait, hidden among the brambles and the thorns, until it was time . An EGGCELLENT plan had just been hatched. Chapter One: Not a Normal Day Marty was still number eleven . He only wanted to wash breakfast jam off his whiskers, but he''d been standing in this bathroom line for ages (seventeen minutes, to be exact). That was the most bothersome thing about a family of this size: The bathroom was almost always occupied . Right now, it was occupied by Marty''s elder sister, Muriel.
She was a bathroom hogger. "Scurry up, love!" Marty''s dad urged from position number three in the line. "We haven''t got all day." "Perfection can''t be rushed!" Muriel replied from behind the door. There was a collective groan from all twenty-seven mice in the line. Dallying dandelions , Marty thought, looking up from The Little Ditch Post Office Handbook , which he was reading to pass the time. Marty normally escaped the morning rush for the bathroom, scampering out of the house while most of his family were still fast asleep and snoring. Normally , he''d be at the post office on Thorny Thickett by now, weaving his way through menacing mountains of mail in the sorting room and swapping cheerful good mornings with his colleagues Dave, Sheila, and Margery.
Normally , right about now, he''d be swinging his bulging mailbag onto his shoulder, ready to begin his round as Mailmouse of Little Ditch. But today was NOT a normal day. The post office was closed for the morning. Marty''s mailbag, instead of being stuffed full of letters and packages for him to deliver, hung on its peg, limp and empty. Because today was . The Annual Little Ditch Fastest Feathers Race! The competition took place every year and it was strictly for BIRDS ONLY: No fur, no snouts, and no whiskers allowed! It had started as a bet between a duck named Wink Waddles and a goose named Elvis Geesley to see who could run the fastest lap around Little Ditch. (Elvis won, and the ducks had been trying to steal the geese''s crown ever since.) The race soon became a Little Ditch tradition, and after two dozen hens protested outside the village hall three winters ago, other birds were now allowed to enter, too.
Marty looked forward to watching the race every year. He loved cheering the birds on as they raced around Little Ditch, not knowing until the very last moment whose beak would get over the finish line first to be crowned the Fastest Feather and win a prize. Although, up until now, the prizes had been somewhat underwhelming . Last year''s Fastest Feather won a set of three and a half egg cups (one got damaged in a scuffle that broke out during the prize-giving ceremony). The year before that , the winner received a miniature egg timer. The prizes had been so disappointing that the race committee had started receiving letters of complaint. So THIS YEAR, they had organized a very special prize: A GOLDEN EGG! Rumors about the egg were circulating around town. Some had heard that it was "so big and heavy it must be made of solid gold.
" Others disagreed, saying they''d heard it was "a real egg with five yolks inside." Marty''s older brother Marcus had whispered to him at the dinner table, "I heard it''s actually a piece of the moon that fell from the sky last Tuesday!" Exciting envelopes! Marty had thought. Marty secretly wished he had feathers so that he could enter the race and win the Golden Egg! But he''d have to daydream about getting his paws on the prize and watch the race from the sidelines instead. If he could ever get to the front of this bathroom line. He stood on his tiptoes and counted: 8,9,12! 12?! Oh, bothersome bathtubs! I''m farther from the front than when I started! Marty realized that if he didn''t leave now, he''d miss the start of the race! He glanced up and down the line. There was quite a backup now, but Marty couldn''t spot his mom, and his dad was looking the other way, so . He quickly wiped the jam off his whiskers with his cousin Marcello''s tail. Then he scampered down the stairs, gave a quick nod to the portrait of his great-aunt Ada (the GREATEST MAILMOUSE WHO EVER LIVED) and scurried out of the house.