Which was ridiculous of Nutkin,because he had not got any ring togive to Old Brown.The other squirrels hunted up anddown the nut bushes; but Nutkingathered robin's pin-cushions off abriar bush, and stuck them full ofpine-needle-pins.
On the fifth day the squirrelsbrought a present of wild honey; itwas so sweet and sticky that theylicked their fingers as they put it downupon the stone. They had stolen it outof a bumble BEES' nest on the tippitytop of the hill.But Nutkin skipped up and down,singing—"Hum-a-bum! buzz! buzz! Hum-a-bum buzz!As I went over Tipple-tineI met a flock of bonny swine;Some yellow-nacked, some yellow backed!They were the very bonniest swineThat e'er went over the Tipple-tine."
Old Mr. Brown turned up his eyesin disgust at the impertinence ofNutkin.But he ate up the honey!The squirrels filled their little sackswith nuts.But Nutkin sat upon a big flat rock,and played ninepins with a crab appleand green fir-cones.
On the sixth day, which wasSaturday, the squirrels came again forthe last time; they brought a new-laidEGG in a little rush basket as a lastparting present for Old Brown.But Nutkin ran in front laughing,and shouting—"Humpty Dumpty lies in the beck,With a white counterpane round his neck,Forty doctors and forty wrights,Cannot put Humpty Dumpty to rights!"
Now old Mr. Brown took an interestin eggs; he opened one eye and shut itagain. But still he did not speak.Nutkin became more and moreimpertinent—"Old Mr. B! Old Mr. B!Hickamore, Hackamore, on the King'skitchen door;All the King's horses, and all the King's men,Couldn't drive Hickamore, Hackamore,Off the King's kitchen door!"
Nutkin danced up and down like aSUNBEAM; but still Old Brown saidnothing at all.Nutkin began again—"Authur O'Bower has broken his band,He comes roaring up the land!The King of Scots with all his power,Cannot turn Arthur of the Bower!"
Nutkin made a whirring noise tosound like the WIND, and he took arunning jump right onto the head ofOld Brown! . . .Then all at once there was aflutterment and a scufflement and aloud "Squeak!"The other squirrels scuttered awayinto the bushes.When they came back verycautiously, peeping round the tree—there was Old Brown sitting on hisdoor-step, quite still, with his eyesclosed, as if nothing had happened.* * * * * * * *BUT NUTKIN WAS IN HIS WAISTCOAT POCKET!This looks like the end of the story;but it isn't.
Old Brown carried Nutkin into hishouse, and held him up by the tail,intending to skin him; but Nutkinpulled so very hard that his tail brokein two, and he dashed up thestaircase, and escaped out of the atticwindow.And to this day, if you meet Nutkinup a tree and ask him a riddle, he willthrow sticks at you, and stamp hisfeet and scold, and shout—"Cuck-cuck-cuck-cur-r-r-cuck-k!"
[For the Children of Sawreyfrom Old Mr. Bunny]
One morning a little rabbit sat on abank.He pricked his ears and listened tothe trit-trot, trit-trot of a pony.A gig was coming along the road; itwas driven by Mr. McGregor, andbeside him sat Mrs. McGregor in herbest bonnet.As soon as they had passed, littleBenjamin Bunny slid down into theroad, and set off—with a hop, skip,and a jump—to call upon hisrelations, who lived in the wood at theback of Mr. McGregor's garden.That wood was full of rabbit holes;and in the neatest, sandiest hole of alllived Benjamin's aunt and hiscousins—Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail,and Peter.Old Mrs. Rabbit was a widow; sheearned her living by knittingrabbit-wool mittens and muffatees (Ionce bought a pair at a bazaar). Shealso sold herbs, and rosemary tea,and rabbit-tobacco (which is whatwe call lavender).
Little Benjamin did not very muchwant to see his Aunt.He came round the back of the fir-tree, and nearly tumbled upon the topof his Cousin Peter.Peter was sitting by himself. Helooked poorly, and was dressed in ared cotton pocket-handkerchief."Peter," said little Benjamin, in awhisper, "who has got your clothes?"Peter replied, "The scarecrow in Mr.McGregor's garden," and describedhow he had been chased about thegarden, and had dropped his shoesand coat.Little Benjamin sat down beside hiscousin and assured him that Mr.McGregor had gone out in a gig, andMrs. McGregor also; and certainly forthe day, because she was wearing herbest bonnet.
Peter said he hoped that it wouldrain.At this point old Mrs. Rabbit's voicewas heard inside the rabbit hole,calling: "Cotton-tail! Cotton-tail! fetchsome more camomile!"Peter said he thought he might feelbetter if he went for a walk.They went away hand in hand, andgot upon the flat top of the wall at thebottom of the wood. From here theylooked down into Mr. McGregor'sgarden. Peter's coat and shoes wereplainly to be seen upon the scarecrow,topped with an old tam-o'-shanter ofMr. McGregor's.Little Benjamin said: "It spoilspeople's clothes to squeeze under agate; the proper way to get in is toclimb down a pear-tree."Peter fell down head first; but itwas of no consequence, as the bedbelow was newly raked and quitesoft.It had been sown with lettuces.They left a great many odd littlefootmarks all over the bed, especiallylittle Benjamin, who was wearingclogs.Little Benjamin said that the firstthing to be done was to get backPeter's clothes, in order that theymight be able to use the pocket-handkerchief.They took them off the scarecrow.There had been rain during the night;there was water in the shoes, and thecoat was somewhat shrunk.Benjamin tried on the tam-o'-shanter, but it was too big for him.Then he suggested that they shouldfill the pocket-handkerchief withonions, as a little present for his Aunt.Peter did not seem to be enjoyinghimself; he kept hearing noises.
Benjamin, on the contrary, wasperfectly at home, and ate a lettuceleaf. He said that he was in the habitof coming to the garden with hisfather to get lettuces for their Sundaydinner.(The name of little Benjamin's papawas old Mr. Benjamin Bunny.)The lettuces certainly were veryfine.Peter did not eat anything; he saidhe should like to go home. Presentlyhe dropped half the onions.Little Benjamin said that it was notpossible to get back up the pear-treewith a load of vegetables. He led theway boldly towards the other end ofthe garden. They went along a littlewalk on planks, under a sunny, redbrick wall.
The mice sat on their doorstepscracking cherry-stones; they winkedat Peter Rabbit and little BenjaminBunny.Presently Peter let the pocket-handkerchief go again.They got amongst flower-pots, andframes, and tubs. Peter heard noisesworse than ever; his eyes were as bigas lolly-pops!He was a step or two in front of hiscousin when he suddenly stopped.This is what those little rabbits sawround that corner!Little Benjamin took one look, andthen, in half a minute less than notime, he hid himself and Peter and theonions underneath a large basket. . . .
The cat got up and stretchedherself, and came and sniffed at thebasket.Perhaps she liked the smell of onions!Anyway, she sat down upon the topof the basket.She sat there for FIVE HOURS.I cannot draw you a picture ofPeter and Benjamin underneath thebasket, because it was quite dark, andbecause the smell of onions wasfearful; it made Peter Rabbit and littleBenjamin cry.The sun got round behind thewood, and it was quite late in theafternoon; but still the cat sat uponthe basket.At length there was a pitter-patter,pitter-patter, and some bits of mortarfell from the wall above.The cat looked up and saw old Mr.Benjamin Bunny prancing along thetop of the wall of the upper terrace.He was smoking a pipe of rabbit-tobacco, and had a little switch in hishand.He was looking for his son.
Old Mr. Bunny had no opinionwhatever of cats. He took atremendous jump off the top of thewall on to the top of the cat, andcuffed it off the basket, and kicked itinto the greenhouse, scratching off ahandful of fur.The cat was too much surprised toscratch back.When old Mr. Bunny had driven thecat into the greenhouse, he locked thedoor.Then he came back to the basketand took out his son Benjamin by theears, and whipped him with the littleswitch.Then he took out his nephew Peter.Then he took out the handkerchiefof onions, and marched out of thegarden.
When Mr. McGregor returnedabout half an hour later he observedseveral things which perplexed him.It looked as though some personhad been walking all over the gardenin a pair of clogs—only the footmarkswere too ridiculously little!Also he could not understand howthe cat could have managed to shutherself up INSIDE the greenhouse,locking the door upon the OUTSIDE.When Peter got home his motherforgave him, because she was so gladto see that he had found his shoes andcoat. Cotton-tail and Peter folded upthe pocket-handkerchief, and old Mrs.Rabbit strung up the onions and hungthem from the kitchen ceiling, withthe bunches of herbs and the rabbit-tobacco.
[For W.M.L.W., the Little GirlWho Had the Doll's House]
Once upon a time there was a verybeautiful doll's-house; it was redbrick with white windows, and it hadreal muslin curtains and a front doorand a chimney.It belonged to two Dolls calledLucinda and Jane; at least it belongedto Lucinda, but she never orderedmeals.Jane was the Cook; but she neverdid any cooking, because the dinnerhad been bought ready-made, in abox full of shavings.There were two red lobsters and aham, a fish, a pudding, and somepears and oranges.They would not come off the plates,but they were extremely beautiful.
One morning Lucinda and Jane hadgone out for a drive in the doll'sperambulator. There was no one inthe nursery, and it was very quiet.Presently there was a little scuffling,scratching noise in a corner near thefireplace, where there was a holeunder the skirting-board.Tom Thumb put out his head for amoment, and then popped it in again.Tom Thumb was a mouse.A minute afterwards, HuncaMunca, his wife, put her head out,too; and when she saw that there wasno one in the nursery, she venturedout on the oilcloth under the coal-box.The doll's-house stood at the otherside of the fire-place. Tom Thumband Hunca Munca went cautiouslyacross the hearthrug. They pushedthe front door—it was not fast.
Tom Thumb and Hunca Muncawent upstairs and peeped into thedining-room. Then they squeakedwith joy!Such a lovely dinner was laid outupon the table! There were tinspoons, and lead knives and forks,and two dolly-chairs—all SOconvenient!Tom Thumb set to work at once tocarve the ham. It was a beautifulshiny yellow, streaked with red.The knife crumpled up and hurthim; he put his finger in his mouth."It is not boiled enough; it is hard.You have a try, Hunca Munca."Hunca Munca stood up in herchair, and chopped at the ham withanother lead knife."It's as hard as the hams at thecheesemonger's," said Hunca Munca.The ham broke off the plate with ajerk, and rolled under the table.
"Let it alone," said Tom Thumb;"give me some fish, Hunca Munca!"Hunca Munca tried every tin spoonin turn; the fish was glued to the dish.Then Tom Thumb lost his temper.He put the ham in the middle of thefloor, and hit it with the tongs andwith the shovel—bang, bang, smash,smash!The ham flew all into pieces, forunderneath the shiny paint it wasmade of nothing but plaster!Then there was no end to the rageand disappointment of Tom Thumband Hunca Munca. They broke up thepudding, the lobsters, the pears andthe oranges.As the fish would not come off theplate, they put it into the red-hotcrinkly paper fire in the kitchen; but itwould not burn either.
Tom Thumb went up the kitchenchimney and looked out at the top—there was no soot.While Tom Thumb was up thechimney, Hunca Munca had anotherdisappointment. She found some tinycanisters upon the dresser, labelled—Rice—Coffee—Sago—but when sheturned them upside down, there wasnothing inside except red and bluebeads.Then those mice set to work to doall the mischief they could—especiallyTom Thumb! He took Jane's clothesout of the chest of drawers in herbedroom, and he threw them out ofthe top floor window.But Hunca Munca had a frugalmind. After pulling half the feathersout of Lucinda's bolster, sheremembered that she herself was inwant of a feather bed.
With Tom Thumbs's assistance shecarried the bolster downstairs, andacross the hearth-rug. It was difficultto squeeze the bolster into the mouse-hole; but they managed it somehow.Then Hunca Munca went back andfetched a chair, a book-case, a bird-cage, and several small odds andends. The book-case and the bird-cage refused to go into the mousehole.Hunca Munca left them behind thecoal-box, and went to fetch a cradle.
Hunca Munca was just returningwith another chair, when suddenlythere was a noise of talking outsideupon the landing. The mice rushedback to their hole, and the dolls cameinto the nursery.What a sight met the eyes of Janeand Lucinda! Lucinda sat upon theupset kitchen stove and stared; andJane leant against the kitchen dresserand smiled—but neither of themmade any remark.The book-case and the bird-cagewere rescued from under the coal-box—but Hunca Munca has got thecradle, and some of Lucinda'sclothes.
She also has some useful pots andpans, and several other things.The little girl that the doll's-housebelonged to, said,—"I will get a dolldressed like a policeman!"But the nurse said,—"I will set amouse-trap!"So that is the story of the two BadMice,—but they were not so very verynaughty after all, because TomThumb paid for everything he broke.
He found a crooked sixpence underthe hearth-rug; and upon ChristmasEve, he and Hunca Munca stuffed itinto one of the stockings of Lucindaand Jane.And very early every morning—before anybody is awake—HuncaMunca comes with her dust-pan andher broom to sweep the Dollies' house!
[For the RealLittle Lucie of Newlands]
Once upon a time there was a littlegirl called Lucie, who lived at a farmcalled Little-town. She was a goodlittle girl—only she was always losingher pocket-handkerchiefs!One day little Lucie came into thefarm-yard crying—oh, she did cry so!"I've lost my pocket-handkin! Threehandkins and a pinny! Have YOU seenthem, Tabby Kitten?"The Kitten went on washing her white paws;so Lucie asked a speckled hen—"Sally Henny-penny, have YOUfound three pocket-handkins?"But the speckled hen ran into abarn, clucking—"I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot!"And then Lucie asked Cock Robinsitting on a twig. Cock Robin lookedsideways at Lucie with his brightblack eye, and he flew over a stile andaway.Lucie climbed upon the stile andlooked up at the hill behind Little-town—a hill that goes up—up—intothe clouds as though it had no top!And a great way up the hillside shethought she saw some white thingsspread upon the grass.
Lucie scrambled up the hill as fastas her short legs would carry her; sheran along a steep path-way—up andup—until Little-town was right awaydown below—she could havedropped a pebble down the chimney!Presently she came to a spring,bubbling out from the hillside.Some one had stood a tin can upona stone to catch the water—but thewater was already running over, forthe can was no bigger than an egg-cup! And where the sand upon thepath was wet—there were footmarksof a VERY small person.Lucie ran on, and on.The path ended under a big rock.The grass was short and green, andthere were clothes-props cut frombracken stems, with lines of plaitedrushes, and a heap of tiny clothespins—but no pocket-handkerchiefs!But there was something else—adoor! straight into the hill; and insideit some one was singing—"Lily-white and clean, oh!With little frills between, oh!Smooth and hot-red rusty spotNever here be seen, oh!"
Lucie knocked-once-twice, andinterrupted the song. A littlefrightened voice called out "Who'sthat?"Lucie opened the door: and whatdo you think there was inside thehill?—a nice clean kitchen with aflagged floor and wooden beams—just like any other farm kitchen. Onlythe ceiling was so low that Lucie'shead nearly touched it; and the potsand pans were small, and so waseverything there.There was a nice hot singey smell;and at the table, with an iron in herhand, stood a very stout short personstaring anxiously at Lucie.Her print gown was tucked up, andshe was wearing a large apron overher striped petticoat. Her little blacknose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle, andher eyes went twinkle, twinkle; andunderneath her cap-where Luciehad yellow curls-that little personhad PRICKLES!"Who are you?" said Lucie. "Haveyou seen my pocket-handkins?"
The little person made a bob-curtsey—"Oh yes, if you please'm; myname is Mrs. Tiggy-winkle; oh yes ifyou please'm, I'm an excellent clear-starcher!" And she took somethingout of the clothesbasket, and spread iton the ironing-blanket."What's that thing?" said Lucie-"that's not my pocket-handkin?""Oh no, if you please'm; that's alittle scarlet waist-coat belonging toCock Robin!"And she ironed it and folded it, andput it on one side.Then she took something else off aclothes-horse—"That isn't my pinny?"said Lucie."Oh no, if you please'm; that's adamask table-cloth belonging toJenny Wren; look how it's stained withcurrant wine! It's very bad to wash!"said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's nose wentsniffle sniffle snuffle, and her eyeswent twinkle twinkle; and she fetchedanother hot iron from the fire.
"There's one of my pocket-handkins!" cried Lucie—"and there'smy pinny!"Mrs. Tiggy-winkle ironed it, andgoffered it, and shook out the frills."Oh that IS lovely!" said Lucie."And what are those long yellowthings with fingers like gloves?""Oh that's a pair of stockingsbelonging to Sally Henny-penny—lookhow she's worn the heels out withscratching in the yard! She'll very soongo barefoot!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle."Why, there's another hankersniff—but it isn't mine; it's red?""Oh no, if you please'm; that onebelongs to old Mrs. Rabbit; and it DIDso smell of onions! I've had to wash itseparately, I can't get out that smell.""There's another one of mine," said Lucie.
"What are those funny little white things?""That's a pair of mittens belongingto Tabby Kitten; I only have to ironthem; she washes them herself.""There's my last pocket-handkin!"said Lucie."And what are you dipping into thebasin of starch?""They're little dicky shirt-frontsbelonging to Tom Titmouse—mostterrible particular!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. "Now I've finished my ironing;I'm going to air some clothes.""What are these dear soft fluffythings?" said Lucie."Oh those are woolly coatsbelonging to the little lambs atSkelghyl.""Will their jackets take off?" askedLucie."Oh yes, if you please'm; look at thesheep-mark on the shoulder. Andhere's one marked for Gatesgarth,and three that come from Little-town.They're ALWAYS marked at washing!"said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.
And she hung up all sorts and sizesof clothes—small brown coats ofmice; and one velvety black moleskinwaist-coat; and a red tail-coat withno tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin;and a very much shrunk blue jacketbelonging to Peter Rabbit; and apetticoat, not marked, that had gonelost in the washing—and at last thebasket was empty!Then Mrs. Tiggy-winkle madetea—a cup for herself and a cup forLucie. They sat before the fire on abench and looked sideways at oneanother. Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's hand,holding the tea-cup, was very verybrown, and very very wrinkly with thesoap-suds; and all through her gownand her cap, there were HAIRPINSsticking wrong end out; so that Luciedidn't like to sit too near her.When they had finished tea, theytied up the clothes in bundles; andLucie's pocket-handkerchiefs werefolded up inside her clean pinny, andfastened with a silver safety-pin.
And then they made up the firewith turf, and came out and lockedthe door, and hid the key under thedoor-sill.Then away down the hill trottedLucie and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle with thebundles of clothes!All the way down the path littleanimals came out of the fern to meetthem; the very first that they metwere Peter Rabbit and BenjaminBunny!And she gave them their nice cleanclothes; and all the little animals andbirds were so very much obliged todear Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.So that at the bottom of the hillwhen they came to the stile, there wasnothing left to carry except Lucie'sone little bundle.
Lucie scrambled up the stile withthe bundle in her hand; and then sheturned to say "Good-night," and tothank the washer-woman.—But whata VERY odd thing! Mrs. Tiggy-winklehad not waited either for thanks orfor the washing bill!She was running running runningup the hill—and where was her whitefrilled cap? and her shawl? and hergown-and her petticoat?And HOW small she had grown—and HOW brown—and covered withPRICKLES!Why! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle wasnothing but a HEDGEHOG!* * * * * *(Now some people say that little Luciehad been asleep upon the stile—but thenhow could she have found three cleanpocket-handkins and a pinny, pinned with asilver safety-pin?And besides—I have seen that door intothe back of the hill called Cat Bells—andbesidesIam very well acquainted with dearMrs. Tiggy-winkle!)
Pussy-cat sits by the fire—how should she be fair?In walks the little dog—says "Pussy are you there?How do you do Mistress Pussy? Mistress Pussy, howdo you do?""I thank you kindly, little dog, I fare as well as you!"[Old Rhyme]
Once upon a time there was aPussy-cat called Ribby, who invited alittle dog called Duchess to tea."Come in good time, my dearDuchess," said Ribby's letter, "and wewill have something so very nice. I ambaking it in a pie-dish—a pie-dishwith a pink rim. You never tastedanything so good! And YOU shall eat itall!Iwill eat muffins, my dearDuchess!" wrote Ribby."I will come very punctually, mydear Ribby," wrote Duchess; and thenat the end she added—"I hope it isn'tmouse?"And then she thought that did notlook quite polite; so she scratched out"isn't mouse" and changed it to "Ihope it will be fine," and she gave herletter to the postman.But she thought a great deal aboutRibby's pie, and she read Ribby's letterover and over again.