Tumtum and Nutmeg had never met Baron Toymouse. But they had heard lots of terrible things about him. For Baron Toymouse was infamous for being horrible.

His temper was said to be so bad it could make cupboards shake and doors rattle. And when he got really angry, you could see smoke coming from his nostrils! By all accounts he looked very frightening.

One mouse who had spotted him said that he had eyes as black as night. And another mouse said he had silver claws… and another mouse said that he had teeth as sharp as daggers… and one mouse said he was taller than a full-grown rat!

So no wonder Baron Toymouse’s name filled every mouse with dread. There must have been a reason why the Baron was so horrible. But no one could understand what it was—for if you met him, you would think he was a very lucky mouse indeed.

He lived in the nursery of a big, rambling house just up the lane from Rose Cottage. The children of the house had grown up long ago, and no human had set foot in the nursery for many years. So Baron Toymouse had the toys all to himself.

And what wonderful toys they were! Think of any toy you like, and the Baron was sure to have it. And since he was just a mouse, the toys didn’t seem like toys. To him, they were life-size.

All day long, he roared about the nursery in his tanks and trains and racing cars and whooshed through the air in sleek model planes. At night, the Baron slept in a big toy castle, with knights in armor stationed around the walls. And when he was hungry, he helped himself to delicious things from his toy candy shop.

Well, a mouse doesn’t get much luckier than that!

“The Baron’s certain to have a toy car and a box of magic tricks to spare,” Nutmeg said. “And if we go and see him, and tell him that Arthur and Lucy won’t have any presents on Christmas Day, then I’m sure he’ll want to help.”

“And I’m sure he won’t!” Tumtum said. “You know what everyone says—Baron Toymouse is the meanest mouse alive. Remember what happened last year, when the poor postmouse went to the nursery to deliver him a Christmas card? The Baron frightened him half to death with a toy snake—then he charged at him in a toy tractor!”

Nutmeg sighed. It was true, the Baron was famously ill-tempered. And he was said to guard his toys very fiercely.

But if they wanted to find presents for Arthur and Lucy, then Baron Toymouse was their only hope.

“I’m sure we can win him over, dear,” she said brightly. “It is Christmas, after all. Perhaps he’ll be in a more festive mood.”

Tumtum doubted it. But he could see that Nutmeg’s mind was made up.

“All right,” he said reluctantly. “We’ll go and see him first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, thank you, dear!” Nutmeg said.

They put the letters back in the envelope and brushed away any telltale hairs. Then, as soon as Nutmeg had finished her darning, they hurried back to Nutmouse Hall and tumbled into their four-poster bed. Tomorrow was a big day, and they needed rest. But they both slept fitfully that night. Tumtum dreamed that Baron Toymouse had locked him up in a toy pigsty, and Nutmeg dreamed she was being chased around the nursery by tin soldiers.

She sat up with a fright. And when she looked out of the window, she saw that it was already light.

She turned around and gave Tumtum a shake. “Wake up, dear!” she said nervously. “It’s time to visit the Baron!”