Then that big, ugly cat turn to the first one. He smackin his lips. The big cat says, says, "Are we ready?"

And the first, the regular cat says, says, "We'd better wait till Martin comes."

Well, poor John moves himself then. Has to. But the broken-down chair is weak. Its seat falls in. John is stuck in the chair, can't pull himself out without makin a lot of noise. Somethin tells him to keep still and say his prayers. He says them. He says them as fast as he can, hardly makin a sound. And the big, huntin dog cat and the little, regular cat get on up out of the burnin fire. They stand on the hearth and pat out the 'smoke. Shake out the ashes. And come on over, sit right down on each side of John.

Poor John stays as still and as twisted up as that haunted tree outside. Sayin his prayers clear through. Whisperin as fast as he can go and not movin his mouth atall.

The next minute there come walkin in behind him and around, a cat twelve times blacker than the other two, and as big as a timber wolf. Bigger. This has to be Martin, John is thinkin, but he won't say a sound. Too scared.

That timber cat walks over and sits down in the fire. Just like the other cats did it. And he picks up this live coal. And he puts it right on his slanted, green eyes. He dusts his eyeballs with it! And he turns around to the other cats sittin on each side of John.

The timber cat says to the other cats, says, showin his teeth, "What you want to do with him there?" And looks straight dead at John, too.

And the other cats say right back all in one meow, "We better wait till Martin comes.”

—“Better Wait Till Martin Comes,”
Virginia Hamilton

Write three to five sentences analyzing how the folktale builds suspense.