Read the poem "Queen of the Cats": Old Polly was a cat of unusual grace,
With wide, yellow eyes and thin stripes on her face.
My wife took her in on a cold, autumn night,
While the north wind played the weather vane foul.
The old iron rooster screeched at the slight.

Old Polly loved her milk, and she loved her cream.
Purring when petted, she'd curl up to dream
By the warmth of the fire. Her quick eyes would glow
With firelight fancies. Was her expression
Of goodwill or ill? I didn't quite know.

It was All Hallows' Eve when the cats came singing,
Walking upright, their high voices ringing
With sorrowful cries—their queen had gone missing.
"What's going on?" shrieked my wife
As Old Polly woke up and began hissing.

"Oh, silly kittens," she spat, as she leapt out the door.
"Here I am, here I am—you need cry no more."
We watched as the cats disappeared in the fog,
And my wife held me close and said,
"Let's get a dog."

Select the details that best support the theme of the poem "Queen of the Cats."

As Old Polly woke up and began hissing. … "Oh, silly kittens," she spat, as she leapt out the door. … "Here I am, here I am—you need cry no more."

My wife took her in on a cold, autumn night, … While the north wind played the weather vane foul. … The old iron rooster screeched at the slight.

Purring when petted, she'd curl up to dream

With wide, yellow eyes and thin stripes on her face.