Can a mouse play music on its tail like a flute? That implausibility and another illogical wrinkle make this latest Lionni animal tale less the fable it aspires to be, and more of an arbitrary fantasy. Mouse Geraldine discovers an enormous piece of Parmesan cheese, persuades her mouse friends to help her move it on the promise of a piece each--and then, nibbling off bits to keep her bargain, "frees" a giant mouse of solid cheese. . . which is holding a flute. (That, chunk by chunk, she should be uncovering a pre-existing form of the same substance is the stumper here.) The flute, she finally sees, is really the tip of the mouse's tail; and that night and every night thereafter, music fills the air. Then one day her mouse friends, out of food, beg a share of her big cheese mouse--asking her, in effect, to give up her music! (Destroying the musical cheese-mouse itself causes no alarm.) But, she discovers--somehow playing a tune on her tail--that "Now we CAN eat the cheese. Because. . . now the music is in me." The question, though, is whether it got there by legitimate means or outright contrivance.