A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories - Beatrix Potter - 1922

8/8/2019 A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories - Beatrix Potter - 1922

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Peter Rabbit BooksBy BEATRIX POTTER

The Tale of Peter RabbitThe Tale of Benjamin BunnyThe Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle

The Tale of Mr. Jeremy FisherThe Tale of Jemima Puddle-DuckThe Tale of the Flopsy BunniesThe Tale of Two Bad MiceThe Tale of Timmy TiptoesThe Tale of Mr. TodThe Tale of Pigling BlandThe Roly Poly PuddingThe Pie and the Patty-panGinger and PicklesThe Story of Miss Moppet

THE TALE OFPETER RABBITBYBEATRIX POTTER

ONCE upon a time therewere four little Rabbits,

and their names were--Flopsy,

Mopsy,Cotton-tail,

and Peter.

They lived with their Motherin a sand-bank, underneath theroot of a very big fir tree.

"NOW, my dears," said oldMrs. Rabbit one morning,

"you may go into the fieldsor down the lane, but don't gointo Mr. McGregor's garden:your Father had an accidentthere; he was put in a pie byMrs. McGregor."

"NOW run along, and don'tget into mischief. I amgoing out."

THEN old Mrs. Rabbit tooka basket and her umbrella,

to the baker's. She bought aloaf of brown bread and fivecurrant buns.



FLOPSY, Mopsy, andCottontail, who were goodlittle bunnies, went down thelane to gather blackberries;

BUT Peter, who was very

naughty, ran straightaway to Mr. McGregor'sgarden and squeezed underthe gate!

FIRST he ate some lettucesand some French beans;and then he ate some radishes;

AND then, feeling rathersick, he went to look forsome parsley.

BUT round the end of acucumber frame, whomshould he meet but Mr.McGregor!

MR. McGREGOR was onhis hands and kneesplanting out young cabbages,but he jumped up and ran afterPeter, waving a rake and callingout, "Stop thief!"

PETER was most dreadfullyfrightened; he rushed allover the garden, for he hadforgotten the way back to thegate.

He lost one of his shoesamong the cabbages, and theother shoe amongst the potatoes.

AFTER losing them, he ranon four legs and wentfaster, so that I think he mighthave got away altogether if hehad not unfortunately run intoa gooseberry net, and gotcaught by the large buttons onhis jacket. It was a blue jacketwith brass buttons, quite new.

PETER gave himself up forlost, and shed big tears;but his sobs were overheard bysome friendly sparrows, whoflew to him in great excitement,

and implored him toexert himself.



MR. McGREGOR came upwith a sieve, which heintended to pop upon the topof Peter; but Peter wriggledout just in time, leaving hisjacket behind him.

AND rushed into the toolshed,and jumped into a can.It would have been abeautiful thing to hide in, if ithad not had so much water in it.

MR. McGREGOR wasquite sure that Peterwas somewhere in the toolshed,perhaps hidden underneatha flower-pot. He beganto turn them over carefully,

looking under each.

Presently Peter sneezed--"Kertyschoo!" Mr. McGregorwas after him in no time,

AND tried to put his footupon Peter, who jumpedout of a window, upsettingthree plants. The window wastoo small for Mr. McGregor,and he was tired of runningafter Peter. He went back to

his work.

PETER sat down to rest;he was out of breath andtrembling with fright, and hehad not the least idea whichway to go. Also he was verydamp with sitting in that can.

After a time he began towander about, going lippity--lippity--not very fast, andlooking all around.

HE found a door in a wall;but it was locked, andthere was no room for a fatlittle rabbit to squeezeunderneath.

An old mouse was runningin and out over the stone doorstep,carrying peas and beansto her family in the wood.Peter asked her the way to the

gate, but she had such a largepea in her mouth that she couldnot answer. She only shook



her head at him. Peter beganto cry.

THEN he tried to find hisway straight across thegarden, but he became moreand more puzzled. Presently,

he came to a pond where Mr.McGregor filled his water-cans.A white cat was staring atsome gold-fish; she sat very,very still, but now and thenthe tip of her tail twitched asif it were alive. Peter thoughtit best to go away withoutspeaking to her; he had heardabout cats from his cousin,little Benjamin Bunny.

HE went back towards thetool-shed, but suddenly,quite close to him, he heardthe noise of a hoe--scr-r-ritch,scratch, scratch, scritch. Peter

scuttered underneath thebushes. But presently, asnothing happened, he cameout, and climbed upon awheelbarrow, and peeped over. Thefirst thing he saw was Mr.McGregor hoeing onions. His

back was turned towardsPeter, and beyond him wasthe gate!

PETER got down veryquietly off the wheelbarrow,and started runningas fast as he could go, alonga straight walk behind someblack-currant bushes.

Mr. McGregor caught sightof him at the corner, but Peterdid not care. He slipped underneaththe gate, and was safe atlast in the wood outside thegarden.

MR. McGREGOR hung upthe little jacket and theshoes for a scare-crow tofrighten the blackbirds.

PETER never stopped runningor looked behind

him till he got home to thebig fir-tree.



He was so tired that heflopped down upon the nicesoft sand on the floor of therabbit-hole, and shut his eyes.His mother was busy cooking;she wondered what he haddone with his clothes. It was

the second little jacket andpair of shoes that Peter hadlost in a fortnight!

I AM sorry to say that Peterwas not very well duringthe evening.

His mother put him to bed,and made some camomile tea;and she gave a dose of it toPeter!

"One table-spoonful to betaken at bed-time."

BUT Flopsy, Mopsy, andCotton-tail had breadand milk and blackberries,for supper.

THE END

THE TALE OFBENJAMIN BUNNY

ONE morning a little rabbitsat on a bank.

He pricked his ears andlistened to the trit-trot,trit-trot of a pony.

A gig was coming along theroad; it was driven by Mr.McGregor, and beside him satMrs. McGregor in her bestbonnet.

AS soon as they had passed,little Benjamin Bunnyslid down into the road, andset off--with a hop, skip and

a jump--to call upon his relations,who lived in the wood atthe back of Mr. McGregor's



garden.

THAT wood was full ofrabbit holes; and in theneatest sandiest hole of all,cousins--Flopsy, Mopsy,Cotton-tail and Peter.

Old Mrs. Rabbit was awidow; she earned her livingby knitting rabbit-wool mittensand muffetees (I once boughta pair at a bazaar). She alsosold herbs, and rosemary tea,and rabbit-tobacco (which iswhat WE call lavender).

LITTLE Benjamin did notvery much want to see

his Aunt.

He came round the back ofthe fir-tree, and nearly tumbledupon the top of his CousinPeter.

PETER was sitting by himself.He looked poorly,and was dressed in a red cottonpocket-handkerchief.

"Peter,"--said little Benjamin,

in a whisper--"who hasgot your clothes?"

PETER replied--"The scarecrowin Mr. McGregor'sgarden," and described how hehad been chased about thegarden, and had dropped hisshoes and coat.

Little Benjamin sat down besidehis cousin, and assured himthat Mr. McGregor had goneout in a gig, and Mrs. McGregoralso; and certainly for the day,because she was wearing herbest bonnet.

PETER said he hoped thatit would rain.

At this point, old Mrs.Rabbit's voice was heard insidethe rabbit hole calling--"Cotton-tail! Cotton-tail!

fetch some more camomile!"

Peter said he thought he



might feel better if he wentfor a walk.

THEY went away hand inhand, and got upon theflat top of the wall at the bottomof the wood. From here they

looked down into Mr. McGregor'sgarden. Peter's coatand shoes were plainly to beseen upon the scarecrow,topped with an old tam-o-shanter of Mr. McGregor's.

LITTLE Benjamin said,"It spoils people's clothesto squeeze under a gate; theproper way to get in, is toclimb down a pear tree."

Peter fell down head first;but it was of no consequence,as the bed below was newlyraked and quite soft.

IT had been sown with lettuces.

They left a great many oddlittle foot-marks all over thebed, especially little Benjamin,who was wearing clogs.

LITTLE Benjamin said thatthe first thing to be donewas to get back Peter's clothes,in order that they might beable to use the pocket handkerchief.

They took them off the scarecrow.There had been rainduring the night; there waswater in the shoes, and thecoat was somewhat shrunk.

Benjamin tried on the tam-o-shanter, but it was too bigfor him.

THEN he suggested thatthey should fill the pocket-handkerchief with onions, asa little present for his Aunt.

Peter did not seem to beenjoying himself; he kepthearing noises.

BENJAMIN, on the contrary,was perfectly athome, and ate a lettuce leaf.



He said that he was in thehabit of coming to the gardenwith his father to get lettucesfor their Sunday dinner.

(The name of little Benjamin'spapa was old Mr. Benjamin

Bunny.)

The lettuces certainly werevery fine.

PETER did not eat anything;he said he shouldlike to go home. Presently hedropped half the onions.

LITTLE Benjamin said thatit was not possible to get

back up the pear-tree, with aload of vegetables. He ledthe way boldly towards theother end of the garden. Theywent along a little walk onplanks, under a sunny red-brick wall.

The mice sat on their door-steps cracking cherry-stones,they winked at Peter Rabbitand little Benjamin Bunny.

PRESENTLY Peter let thepocket-handkerchief goagain.

THEY got amongst flower-pots, and frames andtubs; Peter heard noises worsethan ever, his eyes were as bigas lolly-pops!

He was a step or two infront of his cousin, when hesuddenly stopped.

THIS is what those littlerabbits saw round thatcorner!

Little Benjamin took onelook, and then, in half a minuteless than no time, he hid himselfand Peter and the onionsunderneath a large basket. . . .

THE cat got up and stretched

herself, and came andsniffed at the basket.



Perhaps she liked the smellof onions!

Anyway, she sat down uponthe top of the basket.

SHE sat there for FIVE HOURS.

* * * * *

I cannot draw you a pictureof Peter and Benjamin underneaththe basket, because itwas quite dark, and becausethe smell of onions was fearful;it made Peter Rabbit and littleBenjamin cry.

The sun got round behind

the wood, and it was quite latein the afternoon; but still thecat sat upon the basket.

AT length there was a pitter-patter, pitter-patter, andsome bits of mortar fell fromthe wall above.

The cat looked up and sawold Mr. Benjamin Bunnyprancing along the top of thewall of the upper terrace.

He was smoking a pipe ofrabbit-tobacco, and had a littleswitch in his hand.

He was looking for his son.

OLD Mr. Bunny had noopinion whatever of cats.

He took a tremendous jumpoff the top of the wall on tothe top of the cat, and cuffedit off the basket, and kicked itinto the garden-house, scratchingoff a handful of fur.

The cat was too much surprisedto scratch back.

WHEN old Mr. Bunny haddriven the cat into thegreen-house, he locked thedoor.

Then he came back to thebasket and took out his sonBenjamin by the ears, and



whipped him with the littleswitch.

Then he took out his nephewPeter.

THEN he took out the handkerchief

of onions, andmarched out of the garden.

When Mr. McGregorreturned about half anhour later, he observed severalthings which perplexed him.

It looked as though someperson had been walking allover the garden in a pair ofclogs--only the foot-marks

were too ridiculously little!

Also he could not understandhow the cat could havemanaged to shut herself upINSIDE the green-house, lockingthe door upon the OUTSIDE.

WHEN Peter got home,his mother forgave him,because she was so glad to seethat he had found his shoesand coat. Cotton-tail and

Peter folded up the pocket-handkerchief, and old Mrs.Rabbit strung up the onionsand hung them from thekitchen ceiling, with therabbit-tobacco.

THE END

THE TALE OFTHE FLOPSY BUNNIES

FOR ALL LITTLE FRIENDSOF MR. McGREGOR & PETER & BENJAMIN

IT is said that the effect ofeating too much lettuceis "soporific."

_I_ have never felt sleepy aftereating lettuces; but then _I_ am



not a rabbit.

They certainly had a verysoporific effect upon the FlopsyBunnies!

WHEN Benjamin Bunny

grew up, he marriedhis Cousin Flopsy. They hada large family, and they werevery improvident and cheerful.

I do not remember the separatenames of their children;they were generally called the"Flopsy Bunnies."

AS there was not alwaysquite enough to eat,--

Benjamin used to borrowcabbages from Flopsy'sbrother, Peter Rabbit, whokept a nursery garden.

SOMETIMES Peter Rabbithad no cabbages to spare.

WHEN this happened, theFlopsy Bunnies wentacross the field to a rubbishheap, in the ditch outsideMr. McGregor's garden.

MR. McGREGOR'S rubbishheap was a mixture.There were jam pots and paperbags, and mountains of choppedgrass from the mowing machine(which always tasted oily), andsome rotten vegetable marrowsand an old boot or two. Oneday--oh joy!--there were aquantity of overgrown lettuces,which had "shot" into flower.

THE Flopsy Bunnies simplystuffed lettuces. Bydegrees, one after another,they were overcome withslumber, and lay down in themown grass.

Benjamin was not so muchovercome as his children.Before going to sleep he wassufficiently wide awake to puta paper bag over his head to

keep off the flies.

THE little Flopsy Bunnies



slept delightfully in thewarm sun. From the lawnbeyond the garden came thedistant clacketty sound of themowing machine. The blue-bottles buzzed about the wall,and a little old mouse picked

over the rubbish among thejam pots.

(I can tell you her name, shewas called Thomasina Tittlemouse,a woodmouse with along tail.)

SHE rustled across the paperbag, and awakened BenjaminBunny.

The mouse apologizedprofusely, and said that she knewPeter Rabbit.

WHILE she and Benjaminwere talking, close underthe wall, they heard a heavytread above their heads; andsuddenly Mr. McGregoremptied out a sackful of lawnmowings right upon the topof the sleeping Flopsy Bunnies!Benjamin shrank down

under his paper bag. Themouse hid in a jam pot.

THE little rabbits smiledsweetly in their sleepunder the shower of grass;they did not awake becausethe lettuces had been sosoporific.

They dreamt that theirmother Flopsy was tuckingthem up in a hay bed.

Mr. McGregor looked downafter emptying his sack. Hesaw some funny little browntips of ears sticking up throughthe lawn mowings. He staredat them for some time.

PRESENTLY a fly settledon one of them and itmoved.

Mr. McGregor climbeddown on to the rubbish heap--



"One, two, three, four! five!six leetle rabbits!" said he ashe dropped them into his sack.The Flopsy Bunnies dreamtthat their mother was turningthem over in bed. They stirreda little in their sleep, but still

they did not wake up.

MR. McGREGOR tied upthe sack and left it onthe wall.

He went to put away themowing machine.

WHILE he was gone, Mrs.Flopsy Bunny (whohad remained at home) came

across the field.

She looked suspiciously atthe sack and wondered whereeverybody was?

THEN the mouse came outof her jam pot, and Benjamintook the paper bag offhis head, and they told thedoleful tale.

Benjamin and Flopsy were

in despair, they could notundo the string.

But Mrs. Tittlemouse wasa resourceful person. Shenibbled a hole in the bottomcorner of the sack.

THE little rabbits werepulled out and pinchedto wake them.

Their parents stuffed theempty sack with three rottenvegetable marrows, an oldblacking-brush and twodecayed turnips.

THEN they all hid undera bush and watched forMr. McGregor.

MR. McGREGOR cameback and picked up thesack, and carried it off.

He carried it hanging down,as if it were rather heavy.



The Flopsy Bunniesfollowed at a safe distance.

THEY watched him go intohis house.

And then they crept up tothe window to listen.

MR. McGREGOR threwdown the sack on thestone floor in a way thatwould have been extremelypainful to the Flopsy Bunnies,if they had happened to havebeen inside it.

They could hear him drag

his chair on the flags, andchuckle--

"One, two, three, four, five,six leetle rabbits!" said Mr.McGregor.

"EH? What's that? Whathave they been spoilingnow?" enquired Mrs.McGregor.

"One, two, three, four, five,

six leetle fat rabbits!" repeatedMr. McGregor, counting onhis fingers--"one, two, three--"

"Don't you be silly; whatdo you mean, you silly oldman?"

"In the sack! one, two, three,four, five, six!" replied Mr.McGregor.

(The youngest Flopsy Bunnygot upon the window-sill.)

MRS. McGREGOR tookhold of the sack and feltit. She said she could feelsix, but they must be OLDrabbits, because they were sohard and all different shapes.

"Not fit to eat; but theskins will do fine to line myold cloak."

"Line your old cloak?"shouted Mr. McGregor--"I



shall sell them and buy myselfbaccy!"

"Rabbit tobacco! I shallskin them and cut off theirheads."

MRS. McGREGOR untiedthe sack and put herhand inside.

When she felt the vegetablesshe became very very angry.She said that Mr. McGregorhad "done it a purpose."

AND Mr. McGregor wasvery angry too. One ofthe rotten marrows came flying

through the kitchen window,and hit the youngest FlopsyBunny.

It was rather hurt.

THEN Benjamin and Flopsythought that it was timeto go home.

SO Mr. McGregor did notget his tobacco, and Mrs.McGregor did not get her

rabbit skins.

But next ChristmasThomasina Tittlemouse got apresent of enough rabbit-woolto make herself a cloak and ahood, and a handsome muffand a pair of warm mittens.

THE END

THE ROLY-POLY PUDDING

ONCE upon a time there was an oldcat, called Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit,who was an anxious parent. She used tolose her kittens continually, and whenever

they were lost they were always in mischief!

On baking day she determined to shut



them up in a cupboard.

She caught Moppet and Mittens, but shecould not find Tom.

Mrs. Tabitha went up and down all over

the house, mewing for Tom Kitten. Shelooked in the pantry under the staircase,and she searched the best spare bedroomthat was all covered up with dust sheets.She went right upstairs and looked into theattics, but she could not find him anywhere.

It was an old, old house, full ofcupboards and passages. Some of the wallswere four feet thick, and there used to bequeer noises inside them, as if there mightbe a little secret staircase. Certainly there

were odd little jagged doorways in thewainscot, and things disappeared at night--especially cheese and bacon.

Mrs. Tabitha became more and moredistracted, and mewed dreadfully.

While their mother was searching thehouse, Moppet and Mittens had got intomischief.

The cupboard door was not locked, so

they pushed it open and came out.

They went straight to the dough whichwas set to rise in a pan before the fire.

They patted it with their little soft paws--"Shall we make dear little muffins?" saidMittens to Moppet.

But just at that moment somebodyknocked at the front door, and Moppetjumped into the flour barrel in a fright.

Mittens ran away to the dairy, and hidin an empty jar on the stone shelf wherethe milk pans stand.

The visitor was a neighbor, Mrs. Ribby;she had called to borrow some yeast.

Mrs. Tabitha came downstairs mewing

dreadfully--"Come in, Cousin Ribby, comein, and sit ye down! I'm in sad trouble,Cousin Ribby," said Tabitha, shedding



tears. "I've lost my dear son Thomas; I'mafraid the rats have got him." She wipedher eyes with an apron.

"He's a bad kitten, Cousin Tabitha; hemade a cat's cradle of my best bonnet lasttime I came to tea. Where have you looked

for him?"

"All over the house! The rats are toomany for me. What a thing it is to have anunruly family!" said Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit.

"I'm not afraid of rats; I will help youto find him; and whip him too! What isall that soot in the fender?"

"The chimney wants sweeping--Oh, dear

me, Cousin Ribby--now Moppet and Mittensare gone!"

"They have both got out of the cup-board!"

Ribby and Tabitha set to work to searchthe house thoroughly again. They pokedunder the beds with Ribby's umbrella, andthey rummaged in cupboards. They evenfetched a candle, and looked inside a clotheschest in one of the attics. They could not

find anything, but once they heard a doorbang and somebody scuttered downstairs.

"Yes, it is infested with rats," saidTabitha tearfully, "I caught seven youngones out of one hole in the back kitchen,and we had them for dinner last Saturday.And once I saw the old father rat--anenormous old rat, Cousin Ribby. I wasjust going to jump upon him, when heshowed his yellow teeth at me and whiskeddown the hole."

"The rats get upon my nerves, CousinRibby," said Tabitha.

Ribby and Tabitha searched and searched.They both heard a curious roly-poly noiseunder the attic floor. But there was nothingto be seen.

They returned to the kitchen. "Here'sone of your kittens at least," said Ribby,

dragging Moppet out of the flour barrel.



They shook the flour off her and set herdown on the kitchen floor. She seemed tobe in a terrible fright.

"Oh! Mother, Mother," said Moppet,"there's been an old woman rat in thekitchen, and she's stolen some of the

dough!"

The two cats ran to look at the doughpan. Sure enough there were marks oflittle scratching fingers, and a lump ofdough was gone!

"Which way did she go, Moppet?"

But Moppet had been too much frightenedto peep out of the barrel again.

Ribby and Tabitha took her with themto keep her safely in sight, while they wenton with their search.

They went into the dairy.

The first thing they found was Mittens,hiding in an empty jar.

They tipped up the jar, and she scrambledout.

"Oh, Mother, Mother!" said Mittens--

"Oh! Mother, Mother, there has been anold man rat in the dairy--a dreadful 'normousbig rat, Mother; and he's stolen a patof butter and the rolling-pin."

Ribby and Tabitha looked at one another.

"A rolling-pin and butter! Oh, my poorson Thomas!" exclaimed Tabitha, wringingher paws.

"A rolling-pin?" said Ribby. "Did wenot hear a roly-poly noise in the attic whenwe were looking into that chest?"

Ribby and Tabitha rushed upstairs again.Sure enough the roly-poly noise was stillgoing on quite distinctly under the atticfloor.

"This is serious, Cousin Tabitha," saidRibby. "We must send for John Joiner atonce, with a saw."



Now this is what had been happening toTom Kitten, and it shows how very unwiseit is to go up a chimney in a very old house,where a person does not know his way, andwhere there are enormous rats.

Tom Kitten did not want to be shut upin a cupboard. When he saw that hismother was going to bake, he determinedto hide.

He looked about for a nice convenientplace, and he fixed upon the chimney.

The fire had only just been lighted, andit was not hot; but there was a white choky

smoke from the green sticks. Tom Kittengot upon the fender and looked up. It wasa big old-fashioned fireplace.

The chimney itself was wide enough insidefor a man to stand up and walk about.So there was plenty of room for a littleTom Cat.

He jumped right up into the fireplace,balancing himself upon the iron bar wherethe kettle hangs.

Tom Kitten took another big jump offthe bar, and landed on a ledge high upinside the chimney, knocking down somesoot into the fender.

Tom Kitten coughed and choked with thesmoke; he could hear the sticks beginningto crackle and burn in the fireplace downbelow. He made up his mind to climb rightto the top, and get out on the slates, andtry to catch sparrows.

"I cannot go back. If I slipped I mightfall in the fire and singe my beautiful tailand my little blue jacket."

The chimney was a very big old-fashionedone. It was built in the days whenpeople burnt logs of wood upon the hearth.

The chimney stack stood up above theroof like a little stone tower, and the daylight

shone down from the top, under theslanting slates that kept out the rain.



Tom Kitten was getting very frightened!He climbed up, and up, and up.

Then he waded sideways through inchesof soot. He was like a little sweep himself.

It was most confusing in the dark. Oneflue seemed to lead into another.

There was less smoke, but Tom Kittenfelt quite lost.

He scrambled up and up; but before hereached the chimney top he came to a placewhere somebody had loosened a stone inthe wall. There were some mutton bones

lying about--

"This seems funny," said Tom Kitten."Who has been gnawing bones up here inthe chimney? I wish I had never come!And what a funny smell! It is somethinglike mouse; only dreadfully strong. Itmakes me sneeze," said Tom Kitten.

He squeezed through the hole in the wall,and dragged himself along a most uncomfortablytight passage where there was

scarcely any light.

He groped his way carefully for severalyards; he was at the back of the skirting-board in the attic, where there is a littlemark * in the picture.

All at once he fell head over heels in thedark, down a hole, and landed on a heap ofvery dirty rags.

When Tom Kitten picked himself up andlooked about him--he found himself in aplace that he had never seen before, althoughhe had lived all his life in the house.

It was a very small stuffy fusty room,with boards, and rafters, and cobwebs, andlath and plaster.

Opposite to him--as far away as he couldsit--was an enormous rat.

"What do you mean by tumbling intomy bed all covered with smuts?" said therat, chattering his teeth.



"Please sir, the chimney wants sweeping,"said poor Tom Kitten.

"Anna Maria! Anna Maria!" squeaked

the rat. There was a pattering noise andan old woman rat poked her head round arafter.

All in a minute she rushed upon TomKitten, and before he knew what was happening--

His coat was pulled off, and he was rolledup in a bundle, and tied with string in veryhard knots.

Anna Maria did the tying. The old ratwatched her and took snuff. When she hadfinished, they both sat staring at him withtheir mouths open.

"Anna Maria," said the old man rat(whose name was Samuel Whiskers),--"Anna Maria, make me a kitten dumplingroly-poly pudding for my dinner."

"It requires dough and a pat of butter,and a rolling-pin," said Anna Maria,considering Tom Kitten with her head on one

side.

"No," said Samuel Whiskers, "make itproperly, Anna Maria, with breadcrumbs."

"Nonsense! Butter and dough," repliedAnna Maria.

The two rats consulted together for afew minutes and then went away.

Samuel Whiskers got through a hole inthe wainscot, and went boldly down thefront staircase to the dairy to get thebutter. He did not meet anybody.

He made a second journey for the rolling-pin. He pushed it in front of him withhis paws, like a brewer's man trundling abarrel.

He could hear Ribby and Tabitha talking,

but they were busy lighting the candle tolook into the chest.



They did not see him.

Anna Maria went down by way of theskirting-board and a window shutter to thekitchen to steal the dough.

She borrowed a small saucer, and scoopedup the dough with her paws.

She did not observe Moppet.

While Tom Kitten was left alone underthe floor of the attic, he wriggled about andtried to mew for help.

But his mouth was full of soot and cob-

webs, and he was tied up in such very tightknots, he could not make anybody hear him.

Except a spider, which came out of acrack in the ceiling and examined the knotscritically, from a safe distance.

It was a judge of knots because it had ahabit of tying up unfortunate blue-bottles.It did not offer to assist him.

Tom Kitten wriggled and squirmed untilhe was quite exhausted.

Presently the rats came back and set towork to make him into a dumpling. Firstthey smeared him with butter, and then theyrolled him in the dough.

"Will not the string be very indigestible,Anna Maria?" inquired Samuel Whiskers.

Anna Maria said she thought that it wasof no consequence; but she wished that TomKitten would hold his head still, as itdisarranged the pastry. She laid hold of hisears.

Tom Kitten bit and spat, and mewed andwriggled; and the rolling-pin went roly-poly, roly; roly, poly, roly. The rats eachheld an end.

"His tail is sticking out! You did notfetch enough dough, Anna Maria."

"I fetched as much as I could carry,"replied Anna Maria.



"I do not think"--said Samuel Whiskers,pausing to take a look at Tom Kitten--"Ido NOT think it will be a good pudding. Itsmells sooty."

Anna Maria was about to argue the point,

when all at once there began to be othersounds up above--the rasping noise of asaw; and the noise of a little dog, scratchingand yelping!

The rats dropped the rolling-pin, andlistened attentively.

"We are discovered and interrupted,Anna Maria; let us collect our property,--and other people's,--and depart at once."

"I fear that we shall be obliged to leavethis pudding."

"But I am persuaded that the knots wouldhave proved indigestible, whatever you mayurge to the contrary."

"Come away at once and help me to tie upsome mutton bones in a counterpane," saidAnna Maria. "I have got half a smokedham hidden in the chimney."

So it happened that by the time JohnJoiner had got the plank up--there was nobodyunder the floor except the rolling-pinand Tom Kitten in a very dirty dumpling!

But there was a strong smell of rats; andJohn Joiner spent the rest of the morningsniffing and whining, and wagging his tail,and going round and round with his head inthe hole like a gimlet.

Then he nailed the plank down again, andput his tools in his bag, and came downstairs.

The cat family had quite recovered. Theyinvited him to stay to dinner.

The dumpling had been peeled off TomKitten, and made separately into a bag pudding,with currants in it to hide the smuts.

They had been obliged to put Tom Kitteninto a hot bath to get the butter off.



John Joiner smelt the pudding; but heregretted that he had not time to stay todinner, because he had just finished makinga wheel-barrow for Miss Potter, and shehad ordered two hen-coops.

And when I was going to the post late inthe afternoon--I looked up the lane fromthe corner, and I saw Mr. Samuel Whiskersand his wife on the run, with big bundleson a little wheel-barrow, which looked verylike mine.

They were just turning in at the gate tothe barn of Farmer Potatoes.

Samuel Whiskers was puffing and out ofbreath. Anna Maria was still arguing in

shrill tones.

She seemed to know her way, and sheseemed to have a quantity of luggage.

I am sure _I_ never gave her leave to borrowmy wheel-barrow!

They went into the barn, and hauledtheir parcels with a bit of string to the topof the haymow.

After that, there were no more rats fora long time at Tabitha Twitchit's.

As for Farmer Potatoes, he has beendriven nearly distracted. There are rats,and rats, and rats in his barn! They eatup the chicken food, and steal the oats andbran, and make holes in the meal bags.

And they are all descended from Mr.and Mrs. Samuel Whiskers--children andgrand-children and great great grand-children.

There is no end to them!

Moppet and Mittens have grown up intovery good rat-catchers.

They go out rat-catching in the village,and they find plenty of employment. Theycharge so much a dozen, and earn theirliving very comfortably.

They hang up the rats' tails in a row or



the barn door, to show how many they havecaught--dozens and dozens of them.

But Tom Kitten has always been afraidof a rat; he never durst face anything thatis bigger than--

A Mouse.

THE END

THE TALE OF MR. TOD

I HAVE made many books aboutwell-behaved people. Now, fora change, I am going to make astory about two disagreeable people,called Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.Nobody could call Mr. Tod "nice."The rabbits could not bear him;they could smell him half a mile off.He was of a wandering habit andhe had foxey whiskers; they neverknew where he would be next.

One day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terrorto the family of old Mr. BenjaminBouncer. Next day he moved intoa pollard willow near the lake,frightening the wild ducks and thewater rats.

In winter and early spring hemight generally be found in an earthamongst the rocks at the top of BullBanks, under Oatmeal Crag.

He had half a dozen houses, buthe was seldom at home.

The houses were not always emptywhen Mr. Tod moved OUT; becausesometimes Tommy Brock movedIN; (without asking leave).

Tommy Brock was a short bristlyfat waddling person with a grin; he

grinned all over his face. He wasnot nice in his habits. He ate waspnests and frogs and worms; and he



waddled about by moonlight, diggingthings up.

His clothes were very dirty; andas he slept in the day-time, he alwayswent to bed in his boots. And the

bed which he went to bed in, wasgenerally Mr. Tod's.

Now Tommy Brock did occasionallyeat rabbit-pie; but it was onlyvery little young ones occasionally,when other food was really scarce.He was friendly with old Mr.Bouncer; they agreed in dislikingthe wicked otters and Mr. Tod; theyoften talked over that painful subject.

Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken inyears. He sat in the spring sunshineoutside the burrow, in a muffler;smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.

He lived with his son BenjaminBunny and his daughter-in-lawFlopsy, who had a young family.Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge ofthe family that afternoon, becauseBenjamin and Flopsy had gone out.

The little rabbit-babies were just old

enough to open their blue eyes andkick. They lay in a fluffy bed ofrabbit wool and hay, in a shallowburrow, separate from the mainrabbit hole. To tell the truth--oldMr. Bouncer had forgotten them.

He sat in the sun, and conversedcordially with Tommy Brock, whowas passing through the wood witha sack and a little spud which he usedfor digging, and some mole traps.He complained bitterly about thescarcity of pheasants' eggs, andaccused Mr. Tod of poachingthem. And the otters had clearedoff all the frogs while he was asleepin winter--"I have not had a goodsquare meal for a fortnight, I amliving on pig-nuts. I shall have toturn vegetarian and eat my owntail!" said Tommy Brock.

It was not much of a joke, but ittickled old Mr. Bouncer; because

Tommy Brock was so fat andstumpy and grinning.



So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; andpressed Tommy Brock to come inside,to taste a slice of seed-cake and"a glass of my daughter Flopsy'scowslip wine." Tommy Brocksqueezed himself into the rabbithole with alacrity.

Then old Mr. Bouncer smokedanother pipe, and gave TommyBrock a cabbage leaf cigar which wasso very strong that it made TommyBrock grin more than ever; and thesmoke filled the burrow. Old Mr.Bouncer coughed and laughed; andTommy Brock puffed and grinned.

And Mr. Bouncer laughed and

coughed, and shut his eyes becauseof the cabbage smoke . . . . . . . . . .

When Flopsy and Benjamin cameback--old Mr. Bouncer woke up.Tommy Brock and all the youngrabbit-babies had disappeared!

Mr. Bouncer would not confessthat he had admitted anybody intothe rabbit hole. But the smell ofbadger was undeniable; and there

were round heavy footmarks in thesand. He was in disgrace; Flopsywrung her ears, and slapped him.

Benjamin Bunny set off at onceafter Tommy Brock.

There was not much difficulty intracking him; he had left his foot-mark and gone slowly up the windingfootpath through the wood.Here he had rooted up the mossand wood sorrel. There he had dugquite a deep hole for dog darnel;and had set a mole trap. A littlestream crossed the way. Benjaminskipped lightly over dry-foot; thebadger's heavy steps showed plainlyin the mud.

The path led to a part of the thicketwhere the trees had been cleared;there were leafy oak stumps, anda sea of blue hyacinths--but the

smell that made Benjamin stop, wasnot the smell of flowers!



Mr. Tod's stick house was beforehim and, for once, Mr. Tod was athome. There was not only a foxeyflavour in proof of it--there wassmoke coming out of the brokenpail that served as a chimney.

Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring;his whiskers twitched. Inside thestick house somebody dropped aplate, and said something. Benjaminstamped his foot, and bolted.

He never stopped till he came tothe other side of the wood. ApparentlyTommy Brock had turnedthe same way. Upon the top of the

wall, there were again the marks ofbadger; and some ravellings of asack had caught on a briar.

Benjamin climbed over the wall,into a meadow. He found anothermole trap newly set; he was stillupon the track of Tommy Brock.It was getting late in the afternoon.Other rabbits were coming out toenjoy the evening air. One of themin a blue coat by himself, was busilyhunting for dandelions.--"Cousin

Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!"shouted Benjamin Bunny.

The blue coated rabbit sat upwith pricked ears--

"Whatever is the matter, CousinBenjamin? Is it a cat? or JohnStoat Ferret?"

"No, no, no! He's bagged myfamily--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you seen him?"

"Tommy Brock? how many,Cousin Benjamin?"

"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all ofthem twins! Did he come thisway? Please tell me quick!"

"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since. . . . he said they were caterpillars;

I did think they were kicking ratherhard, for caterpillars."



"Which way? which way has hegone, Cousin Peter?"

"He had a sack with something'live in it; I watched him set amole trap. Let me use my mind,Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the

beginning." Benjamin did so.

"My Uncle Bouncer has displayeda lamentable want of discretion forhis years;" said Peter reflectively,"but there are two hopefulcircumstances. Your family is alive andkicking; and Tommy Brock hashad refreshment. He will probablygo to sleep, and keep themfor breakfast." "Which way?"

"Cousin Benjamin, composeyourself. I know very well which way.Because Mr. Tod was at home inthe stick-house he has gone toMr. Tod's other house, at the topof Bull Banks. I partly know,because he offered to leave anymessage at Sister Cottontail's; hesaid he would be passing." (Cottontailhad married a black rabbit, andgone to live on the hill).

Peter hid his dandelions, andaccompanied the afflicted parent, whowas all of a twitter. They crossedseveral fields and began to climb thehill; the tracks of Tommy Brockwere plainly to be seen. He seemedto have put down the sack everydozen yards, to rest.

"He must be very puffed; weare close behind him, by the scent.What a nasty person!" said Peter.

The sunshine was still warm andslanting on the hill pastures. Halfway up, Cottontail was sitting inher doorway, with four or five half-grown little rabbits playing abouther; one black and the others brown.

Cottontail had seen Tommy Brockpassing in the distance. Askedwhether her husband was at homeshe replied that Tommy Brock had

rested twice while she watched him.



He had nodded, and pointed to thesack, and seemed doubled up withlaughing.--"Come away, Peter;he will be cooking them; comequicker!" said Benjamin Bunny.

They climbed up and up;--"He

was at home; I saw his black earspeeping out of the hole." "Theylive too near the rocks to quarrelwith their neighbours. Come onCousin Benjamin!"

When they came near the woodat the top of Bull Banks, they wentcautiously. The trees grew amongstheaped up rocks; and there, beneatha crag--Mr. Tod had made one ofhis homes. It was at the top of a

steep bank; the rocks and bushesoverhung it. The rabbits crept upcarefully, listening and peeping.

This house was somethingbetween a cave, a prison, and a tumble-down pig-stye. There was a strongdoor, which was shut and locked.

The setting sun made the windowpanes glow like red flame; but thekitchen fire was not alight. It was

neatly laid with dry sticks, as therabbits could see, when they peepedthrough the window.

Benjamin sighed with relief.

But there were preparations uponthe kitchen table which made himshudder. There was an immenseempty pie-dish of blue willow pattern,and a large carving knife andfork, and a chopper.

At the other end of the table wasa partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,a tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,preparations for one person's supper.

No person was to be seen, andno young rabbits. The kitchen wasempty and silent; the clock had rundown. Peter and Benjamin flattened

their noses against the window, andstared into the dusk.



Then they scrambled round therocks to the other side of the house.It was damp and smelly, and over-grown with thorns and briars.

The rabbits shivered in their shoes.

"Oh my poor rabbit babies! Whata dreadful place; I shall never seethem again!" sighed Benjamin.

They crept up to the bedroomwindow. It was closed and boltedlike the kitchen. But there weresigns that this window had beenrecently open; the cobwebs weredisturbed, and there were fresh dirtyfootmarks upon the window-sill.

The room inside was so dark,that at first they could make outnothing; but they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt.And as their eyes became accustomedto the darkness, they perceivedthat somebody was asleepon Mr. Tod's bed, curled up underthe blanket.--"He has gone to bedin his boots," whispered Peter.

Benjamin, who was all of a twitter,pulled Peter off the window-sill.

Tommy Brock's snores continued,grunty and regular from Mr. Tod'sbed. Nothing could be seen of theyoung family.

The sun had set; an owl beganto hoot in the wood. There weremany unpleasant things lying about,that had much better have beenburied; rabbit bones and skulls, andchickens' legs and other horrors. Itwas a shocking place, and very dark.

They went back to the front ofthe house, and tried in every wayto move the bolt of the kitchenwindow. They tried to push up arusty nail between the windowsashes; but it was of no use,especially without a light.

They sat side by side outside thewindow, whispering and listening.



In half an hour the moon roseover the wood. It shone full andclear and cold, upon the houseamongst the rocks, and in at thekitchen window. But alas, no littlerabbit babies were to be seen!

The moonbeams twinkled on thecarving knife and the pie dish, andmade a path of brightness acrossthe dirty floor.

The light showed a little door ina wall beside the kitchen fireplace--a little iron door belonging to abrick oven, of that old-fashionedsort that used to be heated withfaggots of wood.

And presently at the same momentPeter and Benjamin noticed thatwhenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook inanswer. The young family werealive; shut up in the oven!

Benjamin was so excited that itwas a mercy he did not awakeTommy Brock, whose snorescontinued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.

But there really was not very muchcomfort in the discovery. They couldnot open the window; and althoughthe young family was alive--the littlerabbits were quite incapable of lettingthemselves out; they were notold enough to crawl.

After much whispering, Peter andBenjamin decided to dig a tunnel.They began to burrow a yard or twolower down the bank. They hopedthat they might be able to workbetween the large stones under thehouse; the kitchen floor was so dirtythat it was impossible to say whetherit was made of earth or flags.

They dug and dug for hours.They could not tunnel straight onaccount of stones; but by the endof the night they were under thekitchen floor. Benjamin was on hisback, scratching upwards. Peter's

claws were worn down; he wasoutside the tunnel, shuffling sandaway. He called out that it was



morning--sunrise; and that thejays were making a noise downbelow in the woods.

Benjamin Bunny came out of thedark tunnel, shaking the sand fromhis ears; he cleaned his face with

his paws. Every minute the sunshone warmer on the top of the hill.In the valley there was a sea ofwhite mist, with golden tops oftrees showing through.

Again from the fields down belowin the mist there came the angrycry of a jay--followed by the sharpyelping bark of a fox!

Then those two rabbits lost theirheads completely. They did themost foolish thing that they couldhave done. They rushed into theirshort new tunnel, and hid themselvesat the top end of it, underMr. Tod's kitchen floor.

Mr. Tod was coming up BullBanks, and he was in the very worstof tempers. First he had been upsetby breaking the plate. It was

his own fault; but it was a chinaplate, the last of the dinner servicethat had belonged to his grandmother,old Vixen Tod. Then themidges had been very bad. And hehad failed to catch a hen pheasant onher nest; and it had contained onlyfive eggs, two of them addled. Mr.Tod had had an unsatisfactory night.

As usual, when out of humour,he determined to move house. Firsthe tried the pollard willow, but itwas damp; and the otters had lefta dead fish near it. Mr. Tod likesnobody's leavings but his own.

He made his way up the hill; histemper was not improved by noticingunmistakable marks of badger.No one else grubs up the moss sowantonly as Tommy Brock.

Mr. Tod slapped his stick uponthe earth and fumed; he guessedwhere Tommy Brock had gone to.



He was further annoyed by the jaybird which followed him persistently.It flew from tree to tree and scolded,warning every rabbit within hearingthat either a cat or a fox was comingup the plantation. Once when itflew screaming over his head--

Mr. Tod snapped at it, and barked.

He approached his house verycarefully, with a large rusty key.He sniffed and his whiskers bristled.The house was locked up, but Mr.Tod had his doubts whether it wasempty. He turned the rusty key inthe lock; the rabbits below couldhear it. Mr. Tod opened the doorcautiously and went in.

The sight that met Mr. Tod's eyesin Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Todfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair,and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his knifeand fork and mustard and salt cellarand his table-cloth that he had leftfolded up in the dresser--all set outfor supper (or breakfast)--withoutdoubt for that odious Tommy Brock.

There was a smell of fresh earthand dirty badger, which fortunately

overpowered all smell of rabbit.

But what absorbed Mr. Tod'sattention was a noise--a deep slowregular snoring grunting noise,coming from his own bed.

He peeped through the hinges ofthe half-open bedroom door. Thenhe turned and came out of thehouse in a hurry. His whiskersbristled and his coat-collar stood onend with rage.

For the next twenty minutesMr. Tod kept creeping cautiouslyinto the house, and retreatinghurriedly out again. By degrees heventured further in--right into thebedroom. When he was outside thehouse, he scratched up the earth withfury. But when he was inside--hedid not like the look of TommyBrock's teeth.

He was lying on his back withhis mouth open, grinning from ear



to ear. He snored peacefully andregularly; but one eye was notperfectly shut.

Mr. Tod came in and out of thebedroom. Twice he brought in hiswalking-stick, and once he brought

in the coal-scuttle. But he thoughtbetter of it, and took them away.

When he came back after removingthe coal-scuttle, Tommy Brockwas lying a little more sideways;but he seemed even sounder asleep.He was an incurably indolent person;he was not in the least afraidof Mr. Tod; he was simply too lazyand comfortable to move.

Mr. Tod came back yet again intothe bedroom with a clothes line. Hestood a minute watching TommyBrock and listening attentively tothe snores. They were very loudindeed, but seemed quite natural.

Mr. Tod turned his back towardsthe bed, and undid the window.It creaked; he turned round witha jump. Tommy Brock, who hadopened one eye--shut it hastily.

The snores continued.

Mr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar,and rather uneasy, (because thebed was between the window andthe door of the bedroom). He openedthe window a little way, and pushedout the greater part of the clothesline on to the window sill. The restof the line, with a hook at the end,remained in his hand.

Tommy Brock snored conscientiously.Mr. Tod stood and lookedat him for a minute; then he leftthe room again.

Tommy Brock opened both eyes,and looked at the rope and grinned.There was a noise outside thewindow. Tommy Brock shut hiseyes in a hurry.

Mr. Tod had gone out at the frontdoor, and round to the back of thehouse. On the way, he stumbled



over the rabbit burrow. If he hadhad any idea who was inside it, hewould have pulled them out quickly.

His foot went through the tunnelnearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit

and Benjamin, but fortunately hethought that it was some more ofTommy Brock's work.

He took up the coil of line fromthe sill, listened for a moment, andthen tied the rope to a tree.

Tommy Brock watched him withone eye, through the window. Hewas puzzled.

Mr. Tod fetched a large heavypailful of water from the spring,and staggered with it through thekitchen into his bedroom.

Tommy Brock snored industriously,with rather a snort.

Mr. Tod put down the pail besidethe bed, took up the end of ropewith the hook--hesitated, andlooked at Tommy Brock. The

snores were almost apoplectic; butthe grin was not quite so big.

Mr. Tod gingerly mounted a chairby the head of the bedstead. Hislegs were dangerously near toTommy Brock's teeth.

He reached up and put the endof rope, with the hook, over thehead of the tester bed, where thecurtains ought to hang.

(Mr. Tod's curtains were foldedup, and put away, owing to thehouse being unoccupied. So wasthe counterpane. Tommy Brockwas covered with a blanket only.)Mr. Tod standing on the unsteadychair looked down upon himattentively; he really was a first prizesound sleeper!

It seemed as though nothing

would waken him--not even theflapping rope across the bed.



Mr. Tod descended safely fromthe chair, and endeavoured to getup again with the pail of water.He intended to hang it from thehook, dangling over the head ofTommy Brock, in order to makea sort of shower-bath, worked by a

string, through the window.

But naturally being a thin-leggedperson (though vindictive and sandywhiskered)--he was quite unable tolift the heavy weight to the level ofthe hook and rope. He very nearlyoverbalanced himself.

The snores became more andmore apoplectic. One of Tommy

Brock's hind legs twitched underthe blanket, but still he slept onpeacefully.

Mr. Tod and the pail descendedfrom the chair without accident.After considerable thought, heemptied the water into a wash-basinand jug. The empty pail was nottoo heavy for him; he slung it upwobbling over the head of TommyBrock.

Surely there never was such asleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down,down and up on the chair.

As he could not lift the wholepailful of water at once, he fetcheda milk jug, and ladled quarts ofwater into the pail by degrees. Thepail got fuller and fuller, and swunglike a pendulum. Occasionally adrop splashed over; but still TommyBrock snored regularly and nevermoved,--except one eye.

At last Mr. Tod's preparationswere complete. The pail was fullof water; the rope was tightlystrained over the top of the bed,and across the window sill to thetree outside.

"It will make a great mess inmy bedroom; but I could never

sleep in that bed again without aspring cleaning of some sort," saidMr. Tod.



head was covered by the wet blanketand it was NOT SNORING ANY LONGER.

There was nothing stirring, andno sound except the drip, drop,drop drip of water trickling fromthe mattress.

Mr. Tod watched it for half anhour; his eyes glistened.

Then he cut a caper, and becameso bold that he even tapped atthe window; but the bundle nevermoved.

Yes--there was no doubt aboutit--it had turned out even better

than he had planned; the pail hadhit poor old Tommy Brock, andkilled him dead!

"I will bury that nasty person inthe hole which he has dug. I willbring my bedding out, and dry it inthe sun," said Mr. Tod.

"I will wash the tablecloth andspread it on the grass in the sun tobleach. And the blanket must be

hung up in the wind; and the bedmust be thoroughly disinfected, andaired with a warming-pan; andwarmed with a hot-water bottle."

"I will get soft soap, and monkeysoap, and all sorts of soap; andsoda and scrubbing brushes; andpersian powder; and carbolic toremove the smell. I must have adisinfecting. Perhaps I may haveto burn sulphur."

He hurried round the house toget a shovel from the kitchen--"First I will arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person inthe blanket . . ."

He opened the door. . . .

Tommy Brock was sitting at Mr.Tod's kitchen table, pouring outtea from Mr. Tod's tea-pot into

Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quitedry himself and grinning; and hethrew the cup of scalding tea all



over Mr. Tod.

Then Mr. Tod rushed uponTommy Brock, and Tommy Brockgrappled with Mr. Tod amongstthe broken crockery, and there was

a terrific battle all over the kitchen.To the rabbits underneath it soundedas if the floor would give way ateach crash of falling furniture.

They crept out of their tunnel,and hung about amongst the rocksand bushes, listening anxiously.

Inside the house the racket wasfearful. The rabbit babies in the

oven woke up trembling; perhapsit was fortunate they were shut upinside.

Everything was upset except thekitchen table.

And everything was broken,except the mantelpiece and thekitchen fender. The crockery wassmashed to atoms.

The chairs were broken, and thewindow, and the clock fell with acrash, and there were handfuls ofMr. Tod's sandy whiskers.

The vases fell off the mantelpiece,the canisters fell off theshelf; the kettle fell off the hob.Tommy Brock put his foot in a jarof raspberry Jam.

And the boiling water out of thekettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.

When the kettle fell, TommyBrock, who was still grinning,happened to be uppermost; and herolled Mr. Tod over and over likea log, out at the door.

Then the snarling and worryingwent on outside; and they rolledover the bank, and down hill,bumping over the rocks. There

will never be any love lost betweenTommy Brock and Mr. Tod.



As soon as the coast was clearPeter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunnycame out of the bushes--

"Now for it! Run in, CousinBenjamin! Run in and get them

while I watch at the door."

But Benjamin was frightened--

"Oh; oh! they are coming back!"

"No they are not."

"Yes they are!"

"What dreadful bad language!I think they have fallen down the

stone quarry."

Still Benjamin hesitated, andPeter kept pushing him--

"Be quick, it's all right. Shutthe oven door, Cousin Benjamin,so that he won't miss them."

Decidedly there were livelydoings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!

At home in the rabbit hole, thingshad not been quite comfortable.

After quarrelling at supper,Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer hadpassed a sleepless night, andquarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr.Bouncer could no longer deny thathe had invited company into therabbit hole; but he refused to replyto the questions and reproaches ofFlopsy. The day passed heavily.

Old Mr. Bouncer, very sulky,was huddled up in a corner, barricadedwith a chair. Flopsy hadtaken away his pipe and hiddenthe tobacco. She had been havinga complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve her feelings.She had just finished. Old Mr.Bouncer, behind his chair, waswondering anxiously what shewould do next.

In Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the



wreckage, Benjamin Bunny pickedhis way to the oven nervously,through a thick cloud of dust. Heopened the oven door, felt inside,and found something warm andwriggling. He lifted it out carefully,and rejoined Peter Rabbit.

"I've got them! Can we get away?Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?"

Peter pricked his ears; distantsounds of fighting still echoed inthe wood.

Five minutes afterwards twobreathless rabbits came scutteringaway down Bull Banks, half carryinghalf dragging a sack between

them, bumpetty bump over thegrass. They reached home safelyand burst into the rabbit hole.

Great was old Mr. Bouncer'srelief and Flopsy's joy when Peterand Benjamin arrived in triumphwith the young family. The rabbit-babies were rather tumbled andvery hungry; they were fed andput to bed. They soon recovered.

A long new pipe and a fresh supplyof rabbit tobacco was presented toMr. Bouncer. He was rather uponhis dignity; but he accepted.

Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven,and they all had dinner. Then Peterand Benjamin told their story--butthey had not waited long enoughto be able to tell the end of thebattle between Tommy Brock andMr. Tod.

THE END

THE TALE OFMRS. TIGGY-WINKLE

ONCE upon a time there

was a little girl calledLucie, who lived at a farmcalled Little-town. She was



a good little girl--only shewas always losing her pocket-handkerchiefs!

One day little Lucie cameinto the farm-yard crying--oh, she did cry so! "I've lost

my pocket-handkin! Threehandkins and a pinny! HaveYOU seen them, Tabby Kitten?"

THE Kitten went on washingher white paws; soLucie asked a speckled hen--

"Sally Henny-penny, hasYOU found three pocket-handkins?"

But the speckled hen ran

into a barn, clucking--

"I go barefoot, barefoot,barefoot!"

AND then Lucie asked CockRobin sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sidewaysat Lucie with his bright blackeye, and he flew over a stileand away.

Lucie climbed upon the stileand looked up at the hill behindLittle-town--a hill that goesup--up--into the clouds asthough it had no top!

And a great way up the hillsideshe thought she saw somewhite things spread upon thegrass.

LUCIE scrambled up thehill as fast as her stoutlegs would carry her; she ranalong a steep path-way--upand up--until Little-town wasright away down below--shecould have dropped a pebbledown the chimney!

PRESENTLY she came toa spring, bubbling outfrom the hill-side.

Some one had stood a tin

can upon a stone to catch thewater--but the water wasalready running over, for the



can was no bigger than anegg-cup! And where the sandupon the path was wet--therewere foot-marks of a VERYsmall person.

Lucie ran on, and on.

THE path ended under abig rock. The grass wasshort and green, and therewere clothes-props cut frombracken stems, with lines ofplaited rushes, and a heap oftiny clothes pins--but nopocket-handkerchiefs!

But there was somethingelse--a door! straight into the

hill; and inside it some onewas 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, and interruptedthe song. A little frightenedvoice called out "Who's that?"

Lucie opened the door: andwhat do you think there wasinside the hill?--a nice cleankitchen with a flagged floorand wooden beams--just likeany other farm kitchen. Onlythe ceiling was so low thatLucie's head nearly touched it;and the pots and pans weresmall, and so was everythingthere.

THERE was a nice hotsingey smell; and at thetable, with an iron in her handstood a very stout short personstaring anxiously at Lucie.

Her print gown was tuckedup, and she was wearing alarge apron over her stripedpetticoat. Her little blacknose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle,and her eyes went twinkle,

twinkle; and underneath hercap--where Lucie had yellowcurls--that little person had



PRICKLES!

"WHO are you?" saidLucie. "Have youseen my pocket-handkins?"

The little person made a

bob-curtsey--"Oh, yes, if youplease'm; my name is Mrs.Tiggy-winkle; oh, yes if youplease'm, I'm an excellent clear-starcher!" And she tooksomething out of a clothes-basket, and spread it on theironing-blanket.

"WHAT'S that thing?"said Lucie--"that's

not my pocket-handkin?"

"Oh no, if you please'm;that's a little scarlet waist-coatbelonging to Cock Robin!"

And she ironed it and foldedit, and put it on one side.

THEN she took somethingelse off a clothes-horse--"That isn't my pinny?" saidLucie.

"Oh no, if you please'm;that's a damask table-clothbelonging to Jenny Wren;look how it's stained withcurrant wine! It's very badto wash!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE'Snose went sniffle, sniffle,snuffle, and her eyes wenttwinkle, twinkle; and shefetched another hot iron fromthe fire.

"THERE'S one of mypocket-handkins!" criedLucie--"and there's my pinny!"

Mrs. Tiggy-winkle ironed it,and goffered it, and shook outthe frills.

"Oh that IS lovely!" said

Lucie.

"AND what are those long



marked for Gatesgarth, andthree that come from Little-town.They're ALWAYS markedat washing!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

AND she hung up all sorts

and sizes of clothes--small brown coats of mice;and one velvety black mole-skin waist-coat; and a red tail-coat with no tail belonging toSquirrel Nutkin; and a verymuch shrunk blue jacketbelonging to Peter Rabbit; anda petticoat, not marked, thathad gone lost in the washing--and at last the basket wasempty!

THEN Mrs. Tiggy-winklemade tea--a cup for herselfand a cup for Lucie. Theysat before the fire on a benchand looked sideways at oneanother. Mrs. Tiggy-winkle'shand, holding the tea-cup, wasvery very brown, and very verywrinkly with the soap-suds;and all through her gown andher cap, there were HAIR-PINSsticking wrong end out; so

that Lucie didn't like to sittoo near her.

WHEN they had finishedtea, they tied up theclothes in bundles; and Lucie'spocket-handkerchiefs werefolded up inside her cleanpinny, and fastened with asilver safety-pin.

And then they made up thefire with turf, and came outand locked the door, and hidthe key under the door-sill.

THEN away down the hilltrotted Lucie and Mrs.Tiggy-winkle with the bundlesof clothes!

All the way down the pathlittle animals came out of thefern to meet them; the veryfirst that they met were Peter

Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny!

AND she gave them their



Pickles."

It was a little small shop just theright size for Dolls--Lucinda andJane Doll-cook always bought theirgroceries at Ginger and Pickles.

The counter inside was aconvenient height for rabbits. Gingerand Pickles sold red spotty pocket-handkerchiefs at a penny threefarthings.

They also sold sugar, and snuffand galoshes.

In fact, although it was such asmall shop it sold nearly everything--except a few things that you

want in a hurry--like bootlaces,hair-pins and mutton chops.

Ginger and Pickles were thepeople who kept the shop. Gingerwas a yellow tom-cat, and Pickleswas a terrier.

The rabbits were always a littlebit afraid of Pickles.

The shop was also patronized bymice--only the mice were ratherafraid of Ginger.

Ginger usually requested Picklesto serve them, because he said itmade his mouth water.

"I cannot bear," said he, "to seethem going out at the door carryingtheir little parcels."

"I have the same feeling aboutrats," replied Pickles, "but itwould never do to eat our owncustomers; they would leave us andgo to Tabitha Twitchit's."

"On the contrary, they would gonowhere," replied Ginger gloomily.

(Tabitha Twitchit kept the onlyother shop in the village. She did

not give credit.)



Ginger and Pickles gave unlimitedcredit.

Now the meaning of "credit" isthis--when a customer buys a barof soap, instead of the customerpulling out a purse and paying for

it--she says she will pay anothertime.

And Pickles makes a low bow andsays, "With pleasure, madam,"and it is written down in a book.

The customers come again andagain, and buy quantities, in spiteof being afraid of Ginger andPickles.

But there is no money in whatis called the "till."

The customers came in crowdsevery day and bought quantities,especially the toffee customers.But there was always no money;they never paid for as much as apennyworth of peppermints.

But the sales were enormous, tentimes as large as Tabitha Twitchit's.

As there was always no money,Ginger and Pickles were obliged toeat their own goods.

Pickles ate biscuits and Gingerate a dried haddock.

They ate them by candle-lightafter the shop was closed.

When it came to Jan. 1st therewas still no money, and Pickleswas unable to buy a dog licence.

"It is very unpleasant, I amafraid of the police," said Pickles.

"It is your own fault for beinga terrier; _I_ do not require a licence,

and neither does Kep, the Colliedog."



"It is very uncomfortable, I amafraid I shall be summoned. Ihave tried in vain to get a licenceupon credit at the Post Office;"said Pickles. "The place is full ofpolicemen. I met one as I was

coming home."

"Let us send in the bill again toSamuel Whiskers, Ginger, he owes22/9 for bacon."

"I do not believe that he intendsto pay at all," replied Ginger.

"And I feel sure that Anna

Maria pockets things-- Whereare all the cream crackers?""You have eaten them yourself,"replied Ginger.

Ginger and Pickles retired intothe back parlour.

They did accounts. They addedup sums and sums, and sums.

"Samuel Whiskers has run up

a bill as long as his tail; he hashad an ounce and three-quarters ofsnuff since October."

"What is seven pounds of butterat 1/3, and a stick of sealing waxand four matches?"

"Send in all the bills again toeverybody 'with compts'" repliedGinger.

After a time they heard a noisein the shop, as if something hadbeen pushed in at the door. Theycame out of the back parlour. Therewas an envelope lying on the counter,and a policeman writing in anote-book!

Pickles nearly had a fit, he barkedand he barked and made little

rushes.

"Bite him, Pickles! bite him!"



spluttered Ginger behind a sugar-barrel, "he's only a German doll!"

The policeman went on writingin his notebook; twice he put hispencil in his mouth, and once hedipped it in the treacle.

Pickles barked till he was hoarse.But still the policeman took nonotice. He had bead eyes, and hishelmet was sewed on with stitches.

At length on his last little rush--Pickles found that the shop wasempty. The policeman had disappeared.

But the envelope remained.

"Do you think that he has goneto fetch a real live policeman? Iam afraid it is a summons," saidPickles.

"No," replied Ginger, who hadopened the envelope, "it is therates and taxes, L 3 19 11 3/4 ."

"This is the last straw," saidPickles, "let us close the shop."

They put up the shutters, andleft. But they have not removedfrom the neighbourhood. In factsome people wish they had gonefurther.

Ginger is living in the warren. Ido not know what occupation hepursues; he looks stout andcomfortable.

Pickles is at present a gamekeeper.

The closing of the shop causedgreat inconvenience. TabithaTwitchit immediately raised theprice of everything a half-penny;and she continued to refuse to givecredit.

Of course there are the trades-men's carts--the butcher, the fishman



and Timothy Baker.

But a person cannot live on "seedwigs" and sponge-cake and butter-buns--not even when the sponge-cake is as good as Timothy's!

After a time Mr. John Dormouseand his daughter began to sellpeppermints and candles.

But they did not keep "self-fittingsixes"; and it takes five mice tocarry one seven inch candle.

Besides--the candles which they

sell behave very strangely in warmweather.

And Miss Dormouse refused totake back the ends when they werebrought back to her with complaints.

And when Mr. John Dormousewas complained to, he stayed inbed, and would say nothing but"very snug;" which is not the way

to carry on a retail business.

So everybody was pleased whenSally Henny Penny sent out aprinted poster to say that she wasgoing to re-open the shop--"Henny's Opening Sale! Grandco-operative Jumble! Penny'spenny prices! Come buy, cometry, come buy!"

The poster really was most 'ticing.

There was a rush upon the openingday. The shop was crammedwith customers, and there werecrowds of mice upon the biscuitcanisters.

Sally Henny Penny gets ratherflustered when she tries to countout change, and she insists on beingpaid cash; but she is quite harmless.

And she has laid in a remarkableassortment of bargains.



There is something to pleaseeverybody.

THE END

THE STORY OFMISS MOPPET

THIS is a Pussy calledMiss Moppet, she thinksshe has heard a mouse!

THIS is the Mouse peepingout behind the cupboard,and making fun ofMiss Moppet. He is notafraid of a kitten.

THIS is Miss Moppetjumping just too late;she misses the Mouse andhits her own head.

SHE thinks it is a very

hard cupboard!

THE Mouse watches MissMoppet from the top ofthe cupboard.

MISS MOPPET ties upher head in a duster,and sits before the fire.

THE Mouse thinks she islooking very ill. Hecomes sliding down the bell-pull.

MISS MOPPET looksworse and worse. TheMouse comes a little nearer.

MISS MOPPET holdsher poor head in herpaws, and looks at himthrough a hole in the duster.The Mouse comes VERY close.

AND then all of a sudden--Miss Moppet jumpsupon the Mouse!



AND because the Mousehas teased Miss Moppet--Miss Moppet thinks shewill tease the Mouse; whichis not at all nice of MissMoppet.

SHE ties him up in theduster, and tosses itabout like a ball.

BUT she forgot about thathole in the duster; andwhen she untied it--therewas no Mouse!

HE has wriggled out andrun away; and he is

dancing a jig on the top ofthe cupboard!

THE END

THE TALE OFMR. JEREMY FISHER

ONCE upon a time therewas a frog called Mr.Jeremy Fisher; he lived in alittle damp house amongst thebuttercups at the edge of apond.

THE water was all slippy-sloppy in the larder andin the back passage.

But Mr. Jeremy likedgetting his feet wet; nobody everscolded him, and he nevercaught a cold!

HE was quite pleased whenhe looked out and sawlarge drops of rain, splashingin the pond--

"I WILL get some wormsand go fishing and catch

a dish of minnows for mydinner," said Mr. JeremyFisher. "If I catch more than



five fish, I will invite myfriends Mr. Alderman PtolemyTortoise and Sir Isaac Newton.The Alderman, however, eatssalad."

MR. JEREMY put on a

macintosh, and a pairof shiny goloshes; he took hisrod and basket, and set offwith enormous hops to theplace where he kept his boat.

THE boat was round andgreen, and very like theother lily-leaves. It wastied to a water-plant inthe middle of the pond.

MR. JEREMY took a reedpole, and pushed theboat out into open water. "Iknow a good place for minnows,"said Mr. JeremyFisher.

MR. JEREMY stuck hispole into the mud andfastened his boat to it.

Then he settled himselfcross-legged and arranged his

fishing tackle. He had thedearest little red float. Hisrod was a tough stalk ofgrass, his line was a fine longwhite horse-hair, and he tieda little wriggling worm at theend.

THE rain trickled down hisback, and for nearly anhour he stared at the float.

"This is getting tiresome,I think I should like somelunch," said Mr. JeremyFisher.

HE punted back againamongst the water-plants, and took some lunchout of his basket.

"I will eat a butterflysandwich, and wait till theshower is over," said Mr.

Jeremy Fisher.

A GREAT big water-beetle



came up underneath thelily leaf and tweaked the toeof one of his goloshes.

Mr. Jeremy crossed his legsup shorter, out of reach, andwent on eating his sandwich.

ONCE or twice somethingmoved about with arustle and a splash amongstthe rushes at the side of thepond.

"I trust that is not a rat,"said Mr. Jeremy Fisher; "Ithink I had better get awayfrom here."

MR. JEREMY shoved theboat out again a littleway, and dropped in the bait.There was a bite almostdirectly; the float gave atremendous bobbit!

"A minnow! a minnow! Ihave him by the nose!" criedMr. Jeremy Fisher, jerkingup his rod.

BUT what a horrible

surprise! Instead of asmooth fat minnow, Mr.Jeremy landed little JackSharp the stickleback, coveredwith spines!

THE stickleback flounderedabout the boat, prickingand snapping until he wasquite out of breath. Then hejumped back into the water.

AND a shoal of other littlefishes put their headsout, and laughed at Mr.Jeremy Fisher.

AND while Mr. Jeremy satdisconsolately on theedge of his boat--sucking hissore fingers and peering downinto the water--a MUCH worsething happened; a reallyFRIGHTFUL thing it would havebeen, if Mr. Jeremy had not

been wearing a macintosh!

A GREAT big enormous



trout came up--ker-pflop-p-p-p! with a splash--and it seized Mr. Jeremy witha snap, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"--and then it turned and diveddown to the bottom of thepond!

BUT the trout was so displeasedwith the taste ofthe macintosh, that in lessthan half a minute it spat himout again; and the only thingit swallowed was Mr. Jeremy'sgoloshes.

MR. JEREMY bounced upto the surface of thewater, like a cork and the

bubbles out of a soda waterbottle; and he swam withall his might to the edge ofthe pond.

HE scrambled out on thefirst bank he came to,and he hopped home acrossthe meadow with hismacintosh all in tatters.

"WHAT a mercy that wasnot a pike!" said

Mr. Jeremy Fisher. "I havelost my rod and basket; butit does not much matter, for Iam sure I should never havedared to go fishing again!"

HE put some stickingplaster on his fingers,and his friends both came todinner. He could not offerthem fish, but he had somethingelse in his larder.

SIR ISAAC NEWTONwore his black and goldwaistcoat,

AND Mr. Alderman PtolemyTortoise brought a saladwith him in a string bag.

AND instead of a nice dishof minnows--they had aroasted grasshopper withlady-bird sauce; which frogs

consider a beautiful treat; but _I_ think it must have beennasty!



THE END

THE TALE OFTIMMY TIPTOES

ONCE upon a time there wasa little fat comfortablegrey squirrel, called Timmy

Tiptoes. He had a nestthatched with leaves in thetop of a tall tree; and hehad a little squirrel wife calledGoody.

TIMMY TIPTOES sat out,enjoying the breeze; hewhisked his tail and chuckled--"Little wife Goody, the nutsare ripe; we must lay up astore for winter and spring."Goody Tiptoes was busy

pushing moss under thethatch--"The nest is sosnug, we shall be sound asleepall winter." "Then we shallwake up all the thinner, whenthere is nothing to eat inspring-time," replied prudentTimothy.

WHEN Timmy and GoodyTiptoes came to thenut thicket, they found othersquirrels were there already.

Timmy took off his jacketand hung it on a twig; theyworked away quietly by themselves.

EVERY day they madeseveral journeys andpicked quantities of nuts.They carried them away inbags, and stored them inseveral hollow stumps nearthe tree where they had built

their nest.

WHEN these stumps were



full, they began toempty the bags into a holehigh up a tree, that had belongedto a wood-pecker; thenuts rattled down--down--down inside.

"How shall you ever getthem out again? It is like amoney-box!" said Goody.

"I shall be much thinnerbefore spring-time, my love,"said Timmy Tiptoes, peepinginto the hole.

THEY did collect quantities--because they did notlose them! Squirrels who bury

their nuts in the ground losemore than half, because theycannot remember the place.

The most forgetful squirrelin the wood was called Silvertail.He began to dig, andhe could not remember. Andthen he dug again and foundsome nuts that did not belongto him; and there was a fight.And other squirrels began todig,--the whole wood was in

commotion!

UNFORTUNATELY, justat this time a flock oflittle birds flew by, frombush to bush, searching forgreen caterpillars and spiders.There were several sorts oflittle birds, twittering differentsongs.

The first one sang--"Who's bin digging-up MYnuts? Who's-been-digging-up MY nuts?"

And another sang--"Littlebita bread and-NO-cheese!Little bit-a-bread an'-NO-cheese!"

THE squirrels followed andlistened. The first littlebird flew into the bush whereTimmy and Goody Tiptoes

were quietly tying up theirbags, and it sang--"Who's-bin digging-up MY nuts?



Who's been digging-up MY-nuts?"

Timmy Tiptoes went onwith his work withoutreplying; indeed, the little birddid not expect an answer. It

was only singing its naturalsong, and it meant nothing atall.

BUT when the other squirrelsheard that song, theyrushed upon Timmy Tiptoesand cuffed and scratched him,and upset his bag of nuts.The innocent little bird whichhad caused all the mischief,flew away in a fright!

Timmy rolled over and over,and then turned tail and fledtowards his nest, followed bya crowd of squirrels shouting--"Who's-been digging-upMY-nuts?"

THEY caught him anddragged him up the verysame tree, where there wasthe little round hole, and theypushed him in. The hole

was much too small forTimmy Tiptoes' figure. Theysqueezed him dreadfully, itwas a wonder they did notbreak his ribs. "We willleave him here till heconfesses," said Silvertail Squirrel,and he shouted into the hole--

"Who's-been-digging-upMY-nuts?"

TIMMY TIPTOES madeno reply; he had tumbleddown inside the tree, uponhalf a peck of nuts belongingto himself. He lay quitestunned and still.

GOODY TIPTOES pickedup the nut bags and wenthome. She made a cup oftea for Timmy; but he didn'tcome and didn't come.

Goody Tiptoes passed alonely and unhappy night.Next morning she ventured



back to the nut-bushes to lookfor him; but the other unkindsquirrels drove her away.

She wandered all over thewood, calling--

"Timmy Tiptoes! TimmyTiptoes! Oh, where is TimmyTiptoes?"

IN the meantime TimmyTiptoes came to his senses.He found himself tucked upin a little moss bed, very muchin the dark, feeling sore; itseemed to be under ground.Timmy coughed and groaned,because his ribs hurted him.

There was a chirpy noise, anda small striped Chipmunkappeared with a night light,and hoped he felt better?

It was most kind to TimmyTiptoes; it lent him its nightcap;and the house was fullof provisions.

THE Chipmunk explainedthat it had rained nutsthrough the top of the tree

--"Besides, I found a fewburied!" It laughed andchuckled when it heardTimmy's story. While Timmywas confined to bed, it 'ticedhim to eat quantities--"Buthow shall I ever get outthrough that hole unless Ithin myself? My wife will beanxious!" "Just another nut--or two nuts; let me crackthem for you," said the Chipmunk.Timmy Tiptoes grewfatter and fatter!

NOW Goody Tiptoes hadset to work again byherself. She did not put anymore nuts into the woodpecker'shole, because she hadalways doubted how theycould be got out again. Shehid them under a tree root;they rattled down, down,down. Once when Goody

emptied an extra big bagful,there was a decided squeak;and next time Goody brought



another bagful, a little stripedChipmunk scrambled out in ahurry.

"IT is getting perfectly full-up down-stairs; thesitting-room is full, and they are

rolling along the passage; andmy husband, Chippy Hackee,has run away and left me.What is the explanation ofthese showers of nuts?"

"I am sure I beg yourpardon; I did not not know thatanybody lived here," said Mrs.Goody Tiptoes; "but where isChippy Hackee? My husband,Timmy Tiptoes, has run away

too." "I know where Chippyis; a little bird told me," saidMrs. Chippy Hackee.

SHE led the way to the woodpecker'stree, and theylistened at the hole.

Down below there was anoise of nut crackers, and afat squirrel voice and a thinsquirrel voice were singingtogether--

"My little old man and I fell out,How shall we bring this matter about?Bring it about as well as you can,And get you gone, you little old man!"

"You could squeeze in,through that littleround hole," said GoodyTiptoes. "Yes, I could," saidthe Chipmunk, "but myhusband, Chippy Hackee,bites!"

Down below there was anoise of cracking nuts andnibbling; and then the fatsquirrel voice and the thinsquirrel voice sang--

"For the diddlum dayDay diddle dum di!Day diddle diddle dum day!"

THEN Goody peeped in atthe hole, and called



down--"Timmy Tiptoes! Ohfie, Timmy Tiptoes!" AndTimmy replied, "Is that you,Goody Tiptoes? Why, certainly!"

He came up and kissedGoody through the hole; but

he was so fat that he couldnot get out.

Chippy Hackee was not toofat, but he did not want tocome; he stayed down belowand chuckled.

AND so it went on for afortnight; till a big windblew off the top of the tree,and opened up the hole and let

in the rain.

Then Timmy Tiptoes cameout, and went home with anumbrella.

BUT Chippy Hackeecontinued to camp out foranother week, although it wasuncomfortable.

AT last a large bear camewalking through the

wood. Perhaps he also waslooking for nuts; he seemedto be sniffing around.

CHIPPY HACKEE wenthome in a hurry!

AND when Chippy Hackeegot home, he found hehad caught a cold in his head;and he was more uncomfortablestill.

And now Timmy andGoody Tiptoes keep theirnut-store fastened up with alittle padlock.

AND whenever that littlebird sees the Chipmunks,he sings--"Who's-been-digging-up MY-nuts? Who'sbeen digging-up MY-nuts?"But nobody ever answers!

THE END



THE PIE AND THE PATTY-PAN

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, how do 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, whoinvited a little dog called Duchess

to tea.

"Come in good time, my dearDuchess," said Ribby's letter, "andwe will have something so very nice.I am baking it in a pie-dish--a pie-dish with a pink rim. You nevertasted anything so good! And YOUshall eat it all! _I_ will eat muffins,my dear Duchess!" wrote Ribby.

Duchess read the letter and wrotean answer:--"I will come with

much pleasure at a quarter past four.But it is very strange. _I_ was justgoing to invite you to come here,to supper, my dear Ribby, to eatsomething MOST DELICIOUS."

"I will come very punctually, mydear Ribby," wrote Duchess; andthen at the end she added--"I hopeit isn't mouse?"

And then she thought that didnot look quite polite; so she scratchedout "isn't mouse" and changedit to "I hope it will be fine," andshe gave her letter to the postman.

But she thought a great dealabout Ribby's pie, and she readRibby's letter over and over again.

"I am dreadfully afraid it WILL bemouse!" said Duchess to herself--"I really couldn't, COULDN'T eat

mouse pie. And I shall have toeat it, because it is a party. AndMY pie was going to be veal and



ham. A pink and white pie-dish!and so is mine; just like Ribby'sdishes; they were both bought atTabitha Twitchit's."

Duchess went into her larderand took the pie off a shelf and

looked at it.

"It is all ready to put into theoven. Such lovely pie-crust; andI put in a little tin patty-pan tohold up the crust; and I made ahole in the middle with a fork tolet out the steam--Oh I do wish Icould eat my own pie, instead of apie made of mouse!"

Duchess considered and consideredand read Ribby' s letter again--

"A pink and white pie-dish-andYOU shall eat it all. 'You' meansme--then Ribby is not going toeven taste the pie herself? A pinkand white pie-dish! Ribby is sureto go out to buy the muffins. . . . .Oh what a good idea! Whyshouldn't I rush along and put mypie into Ribby's oven when Ribbyisn't there?"

Duchess was quite delightedwith her own cleverness!

Ribby in the meantime hadreceived Duchess's answer, and assoon as she was sure that the littledog would come--she popped HERpie into the oven. There were twoovens, one above the other; someother knobs and handles were onlyornamental and not intended toopen. Ribby put the pie into thelower oven; the door was very stiff.

"The top oven bakes too quickly,"said Ribby to herself. "It is apie of the most delicate and tendermouse minced up with bacon. AndI have taken out all the bones;because Duchess did nearly chokeherself with a fish-bone last time Igave a party. She eats a little fast--rather big mouthfuls. But a

most genteel and elegant little doginfinitely superior company toCousin Tabitha Twitchit."



Ribby put on some coal andswept up the hearth. Then shewent out with a can to the well,for water to fill up the kettle.

Then she began to set the roomin order, for it was the sitting-roomas well as the kitchen. She shookthe mats out at the front-door andput them straight; the hearth-rugwas a rabbit-skin. She dusted theclock and the ornaments on themantelpiece, and she polished andrubbed the tables and chairs.

Then she spread a very clean

white table-cloth, and set out herbest china tea-set, which she tookout of a wall-cupboard near thefireplace. The tea-cups were white witha pattern of pink roses; and thedinner-plates were white and blue.

When Ribby had laid the tableshe took a jug and a blue and whitedish, and went out down the field tothe farm, to fetch milk and butter.

When she came back, she peepedinto the bottom oven; the pie lookedvery comfortable.

Ribby put on her shawl andbonnet and went out again with abasket, to the village shop to buy apacket of tea, a pound of lumpsugar, and a pot of marmalade.

And just at the same time,Duchess came out of HER house, atthe other end of the village.

Ribby met Duchess half-wayown the street, also carrying abasket, covered with a cloth. Theyonly bowed to one another; theydid not speak, because they weregoing to have a party.

As soon as Duchess had gotround the corner out of sight--shesimply ran! Straight away to

Ribby's house!



Ribby went into the shop andbought what she required, andcame out, after a pleasant gossipwith Cousin Tabitha Twitchit.

Cousin Tabitha was disdainfulafterwards in conversation--

"A little DOG indeed! Just as ifthere were no CATS in Sawrey!And a PIE for afternoon tea! Thevery idea!" said Cousin TabithaTwitchit.

Ribby went on to TimothyBaker's and bought the muffins.Then she went home.

There seemed to be a sort ofscuffling noise in the back passage,as she was coming in at the frontdoor.

"I trust that is not that Pie: thespoons are locked up, however,"said Ribby.

But there was nobody there.Ribby opened the bottom oven doorwith some difficulty, and turned thepie. There began to be a pleasing

smell of baked mouse!

Duchess in the meantime, hadslipped out at the back door.

"It is a very odd thing thatRibby's pie was NOT in the ovenwhen I put mine in! And I can tfind it anywhere; I have looked allover the house. I put MY pie intoa nice hot oven at the top. I couldnot turn any of the other handles;I think that they are all shams,"said Duchess, "but I wish I couldhave removed the pie made ofmouse! I cannot think what shehas done with it? I heard Ribbycoming and I had to run out by theback door!"

Duchess went home and brushedher beautiful black coat; and thenshe picked a bunch of flowers in

her garden as a present for Ribby;and passed the time until the clockstruck four.



Ribby--having assured herselfby careful search that there wasreally no one hiding in the cupboardor in the larder--wentupstairs to change her dress.

She put on a lilac silk gown, forthe party, and an embroideredmuslin apron and tippet.

"It is very strange," said Ribby,"I did not THINK I left that drawerpulled out; has somebody beentrying on my mittens?"

She came downstairs again, andmade the tea, and put the teapot on

the hob. She peeped again intothe BOTTOM oven, the pie had becomea lovely brown, and it wassteaming hot.

She sat down before the fire towait for the little dog. "I am gladI used the BOTTOM oven," said Ribby,"the top one would certainlyhave been very much too hot. Iwonder why that cupboard doorwas open? Can there really have

been some one in the house?"

Very punctually at four o'clock,Duchess started to go to the party.She ran so fast through the villagethat she was too early, and she hadto wait a little while in the lanethat leads down to Ribby's house.

"I wonder if Ribby has takenMY pie out of the oven yet?" saidDuchess, "and whatever can havebecome of the other pie made ofmouse?"

At a quarter past four to theminute, there came a most genteellittle tap-tappity. "Is Mrs. Ribstonat home?" inquired Duchess inthe porch.

"Come in! and how do you do,my dear Duchess?" cried Ribby.

"I hope I see you well?"

"Quite well, I thank you, and



"May I pass you the marmalade?"said Duchess hurriedly.

The pie proved extremely toothsome,and the muffins light andhot. They disappeared rapidly,especially the pie!

"I think"--(thought the Duchessto herself)--"I THINK it wouldbe wiser if I helped myself to pie;though Ribby did not seem to noticeanything when she was cutting it.What very small fine pieces it hascooked into! I did not remember thatI had minced it up so fine; I supposethis is a quicker oven than my own."

"How fastDuchess iseating!" thoughtRibby to herself,as she buttered herfifth muffin.

The pie-dish was emptyingrapidly! Duchesshad had fourhelps already, andwas fumblingwith the spoon.

"A little more bacon, my dearDuchess?" said Ribby.

"Thank you, my dear Ribby; Iwas only feeling for the patty-pan."

"The patty-pan? my dearDuchess?"

"The patty-pan that held up thepie-crust," said Duchess, blushingunder her black coat.

"Oh, I didn't put one in, mydear Duchess," said Ribby; "Idon't think that it is necessary inpies made of mouse."

Duchess fumbled with the spoon--"I can't find it!" she saidanxiously.

"There isn't a patty-pan," saidRibby, looking perplexed.



"Yes, indeed, my dear Ribby;where can it have gone to?" saidDuchess.

"There most certainly is not one,my dear Duchess. I disapprove oftin articles in puddings and pies. It

is most undesirable--(especiallywhen people swallow in lumps!)"she added in a lower voice.

Duchess looked very muchalarmed, and continued to scoopthe inside of the pie-dish.

"My Great-aunt Squintina(grandmother of Cousin TabithaTwitchit)--died of a thimble in a

Christmas plum-pudding. _I_ neverput any article of metal in MYpuddings or pies."

Duchess looked aghast, andtilted up the pie-dish.

"I have only four patty-pans,and they are all in the cupboard."

Duchess set up a howl.

"I shall die! I shall die! I haveswallowed a patty-pan! Oh, mydear Ribby, I do feel so ill!"

"It is impossible, my dearDuchess; there was not a patty-pan."

Duchess moaned and whinedand rocked herself about.

"Oh I feel so dreadful. I haveswallowed a patty-pan!"

"There was NOTHING in the pie,"said Ribby severely.

"Yes there WAS, my dear Ribby,I am sure I have swallowed it!"

"Let me prop you up with apillow, my dear Duchess; where doyou think you feel it?"

"Oh I do feel so ill ALL OVER me,

my dear Ribby; I have swalloweda large tin patty-pan with a sharpscalloped edge!"



"Shall I run for the doctor? Iwill just lock up the spoons!"

"Oh yes, yes! fetch Dr. Maggotty,my dear Ribby: he is a Piehimself, he will certainly understand."

Ribby settled Duchess in anarmchair before the fire, and wentout and hurried to the village tolook for the doctor.

She found him at the smithy.

He was occupied in putting rustynails into a bottle of ink, which hehad obtained at the post office.

"Gammon? ha! HA!" said he,with his head on one side.

Ribby explained that her guesthad swallowed a patty-pan.

"Spinach? ha! HA!" said he,and accompanied her with alacrity.

He hopped so fast that Ribby--had to run. It was most conspicuous.All the village could see thatRibby was fetching the doctor.

"I KNEW they would over-eatthemselves!" said Cousin TabithaTwitchit.

But while Ribby had been huntingfor the doctor--a curious thinghad happened to Duchess, who hadbeen left by herself, sitting beforethe fire, sighing and groaning andfeeling very unhappy.

"How COULD I have swallowed it!such a large thing as a patty-pan!"

She got up and went to the table,and felt inside the pie-dish againwith a spoon.

"No; there is no patty-pan, andI put one in; and nobody has eatenpie except me, so I must haveswallowed it!"

She sat down again, and staredmournfully at the grate. The fire



crackled and danced, and somethingsizz-z-zled!

Duchess started! She opened thedoor of the TOP oven;--out came arich steamy flavour of veal and

ham, and there stood a fine brownpie,--and through a hole in the topof the pie-crust there was a glimpseof a little tin patty-pan!

Duchess drew a long breath--

"Then I must have been eatingMOUSE! . . . NO wonder I feel ill.. . . But perhaps I should feel worseif I had really swallowed a patty-pan!" Duchess reflected--"What

a very awkward thing to haveto explain to Ribby! I thinkI will put my pie in the back-yardand say nothing about it. WhenI go home, I will run round andtake it away." She put it outsidethe back-door, and sat down againby the fire, and shut her eyes; whenRibby arrived with the doctor, sheseemed fast asleep.

"Gammon, ha, HA?" said the

doctor.

"I am feeling very much better,"said Duchess, waking up with ajump.

"I am truly glad to hear it!"He has brought you a pill, my dearDuchess!"

"I think I should feel QUITE wellif he only felt my pulse," saidDuchess, backing away from themagpie, who sidled up with somethingin his beak.

"It is only a bread pill, you hadmuch better take it; drink a littlemilk, my dear Duchess!"

"Gammon? Gammon?" saidthe doctor, while Duchess coughedand choked.

"Don't say that again!" said

Ribby, losing her temper--"Here,take this bread and jam, and get outinto the yard!"



"Gammonand spinach!ha ha HA!"shouted Dr.Maggottytriumphantly outside the back door.

"I am feeling very much better,my dear Ribby," said Duchess."Do you not think that I had bettergo home before it gets dark?"

"Perhaps it might be wise, mydear Duchess. I will lend you anice warm shawl, and you shalltake my arm."

"I would not trouble you forworlds; I feel wonderfully better.One pill of Dr. Maggotty----"

"Indeed it is most admirable, ifit has cured you of a patty-pan! Iwill call directly after breakfast toask how you have slept."

Ribby and Duchess said good-bye affectionately, and Duchessstarted home. Half-way up the

lane she stopped and looked back;Ribby had gone in and shut herdoor. Duchess slipped through thefence, and ran round to the backof Ribby's house, and peeped intothe yard.

Upon the roof of the pig-stye satDr. Maggotty and three jackdaws.The jackdaws were eating pie-crust, and the magpie was drinkinggravy out of a patty-pan.

"Gammon, ha, HA!" he shoutedwhen he saw Duchess's little blacknose peeping round the corner.

Duchess ran home feeling uncommonlysilly!

When Ribby came out for a pailfulof water to wash up the tea-things, she found a pink and whitepie-dish lying smashed in the middle

of the yard. The patty-panwas under the pump, where DrMaggotty had considerately left it.



Ribby stared with amazement--"Did you ever see the like! so therereally WAS a patty-pan? . . . . Butmy patty-pans are all in the kitchencupboard. Well I never did! . . . .Next time I want to give a party

--I will invite Cousin TabithaTwitchit!"

THE END

THE TALE OF

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKA FARMYARD TALE

WHAT a funny sight it isto see a brood ofducklings with a hen!--Listen to the story ofJemima Puddle-duck, who wasannoyed because the farmer'swife would not let her hatch

her own eggs.

HER sister-in-law, Mrs.Rebeccah Puddle-duck,was perfectly willing to leavethe hatching to some one else--"I have not the patience tosit on a nest for twenty-eightdays; and no more have you,Jemima. You would let themgo cold; you know you would!"

"I wish to hatch my owneggs; I will hatch them allby myself," quacked JemimaPuddle-duck.

SHE tried to hide her eggs;but they were always foundand carried off.

Jemima Puddle-duckbecame quite desperate. Shedetermined to make a nestright away from the farm.

SHE set off on a fine springafternoon along the cart-



road that leads over the hill.

She was wearing a shawland a poke bonnet.

WHEN she reached the topof the hill, she saw a

wood in the distance.

She thought that it lookeda safe quiet spot.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKwas not much in the habitof flying. She ran downhill afew yards flapping her shawl,and then she jumped off intothe air.

SHE flew beautifully whenshe had got a good start.

She skimmed along over thetree-tops until she saw an openplace in the middle of the wood,where the trees and brushwoodhad been cleared.

JEMIMA alighted ratherheavily, and began towaddle about in search of aconvenient dry nesting-place.

She rather fancied a tree-stumpamongst some tall fox-gloves.

But--seated upon the stump,she was startled to find anelegantly dressed gentlemanreading a newspaper.

He had black prick ears andsandy coloured whiskers.

"Quack?" said JemimaPuddle-duck, with her headand her bonnet on one side--"Quack?"

THE gentleman raised hiseyes above his newspaperand looked curiously atJemima--

"Madam, have you lost yourway?" said he. He had a longbushy tail which he was sittingupon, as the stump was somewhat

damp.

Jemima thought him mighty



civil and handsome. Sheexplained that she had notlost her way, but that she wastrying to find a convenientdry nesting-place.

"AH! is that so? indeed!" said

the gentleman with sandywhiskers, looking curiously atJemima. He folded up thenewspaper, and put it in hiscoat-tail pocket.

Jemima complained of thesuperfluous hen.

"Indeed! how interesting!I wish I could meet with thatfowl. I would teach it to mind

its own business!"

"BUT as to a nest--there isno difficulty: I have asackful of feathers in my wood-shed. No, my dear madam,you will be in nobody's way.You may sit there as long asyou like," said the bushy long-tailed gentleman.

He led the way to a veryretired, dismal-looking house

amongst the fox-gloves.

It was built of faggots andturf, and there were two brokenpails, one on top of another,by way of a chimney.

"THIS is my summerresidence; you would notfind my earth--my winterhouse--so convenient," saidthe hospitable gentleman.

There was a tumble-downshed at the back of the house,made of old soap-boxes. Thegentleman opened the door,and showed Jemima in.

THE shed was almost quitefull of feathers--it wasalmost suffocating; but it wascomfortable and very soft.

Jemima Puddle-duck was

rather surprised to find such avast quantity of feathers. Butit was very comfortable; and



she made a nest without anytrouble at all.

WHEN she came out, thesandy whiskered gentlemanwas sitting on a logreading the newspaper--at

least he had it spread out, buthe was looking over the topof it.

He was so polite, that heseemed almost sorry to letJemima go home for the night.He promised to take great careof her nest until she came backagain next day.

He said he loved eggs and

ducklings; he should be proudto see a fine nestful in hiswood-shed.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKcame every afternoon; shelaid nine eggs in the nest.They were greeny white andvery large. The foxy gentlemanadmired them immensely.He used to turn them overand count them when Jemimawas not there.

At last Jemima told himthat she intended to begin tosit next day--"and I will bringa bag of corn with me, so thatI need never leave my nestuntil the eggs are hatched.They might catch cold," saidthe conscientious Jemima.

"MADAM, I beg you notto trouble yourself witha bag; I will provide oats.But before you commence yourtedious sitting, I intend to giveyou a treat. Let us have adinner-party all to ourselves!

"May I ask you to bring upsome herbs from the farm-garden to make a savouryomelette? Sage and thyme,and mint and two onions, andsome parsley. I will providelard for the stuff-lard for the

omelette," said the hospitablegentleman with sandy whiskers.



JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKwas a simpleton: not eventhe mention of sage and onionsmade her suspicious.

She went round the farm-garden, nibbling off snippets

of all the different sorts ofherbs that are used for stuffingroast duck.

AND she waddled into thekitchen, and got twoonions out of a basket.

The collie-dog Kep met hercoming out, "What are youdoing with those onions?Where do you go every afternoon

by yourself, JemimaPuddle-duck?"

Jemima was rather in aweof the collie; she told him thewhole story.

The collie listened, with hiswise head on one side; hegrinned when she describedthe polite gentleman withsandy whiskers.

HE asked several questionsabout the wood, andabout the exact position of thehouse and shed.

Then he went out, andtrotted down the village. Hewent to look for two fox-houndpuppies who were out at walkwith the butcher.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKwent up the cart-road forthe last time, on a sunny afternoon.She was rather burdenedwith bunches of herbsand two onions in a bag.

She flew over the wood, andalighted opposite the house ofthe bushy long-tailed gentleman.

HE was sitting on a log;he sniffed the air, andkept glancing uneasily round

the wood. When Jemimaalighted he quite jumped.



"Come into the house assoon as you have looked atyour eggs. Give me the herbsfor the omelette. Be sharp!"

He was rather abrupt.Jemima Puddle-duck had

never heard him speak likethat.

She felt surprised, anduncomfortable.

WHILE she was inside sheheard pattering feetround the back of the shed.Some one with a black nosesniffed at the bottom of thedoor, and then locked it.

Jemima became muchalarmed.

A MOMENT afterwardsthere were most awfulnoises--barking, baying,growls and howls, squealingand groans.

And nothing more was everseen of that foxy-whiskeredgentleman.

PRESENTLY Kep openedthe door of the shed, andlet out Jemima Puddle-duck.

Unfortunately the puppiesrushed in and gobbled up allthe eggs before he could stopthem.

He had a bite on his earand both the puppies werelimping.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKwas escorted home in tearson account of those eggs.

SHE laid some more in June,and she was permitted tokeep them herself: but onlyfour of them hatched.

Jemima Puddle-duck saidthat it was because of her

nerves; but she had alwaysbeen a bad sitter.



THE END

THE TALE OF PIGLING BLAND

ONCE upon a time there was anold pig called Aunt Pettitoes.She had eight of a family: fourlittle girl pigs, called Cross-patch,Suck-suck, Yock-yock and Spot;

and four little boy pigs, calledAlexander, Pigling Bland, Chin-chin and Stumpy. Stumpy hadhad an accident to his tail.

The eight little pigs had very fine

appetites. "Yus, yus, yus! theyeat and indeed they DO eat!"said Aunt Pettitoes, looking at herfamily with pride. Suddenly therewere fearful squeals; Alexanderhad squeezed inside the hoops ofthe pig trough and stuck.

Aunt Pettitoes and I draggedhim out by the hind legs.

Chin-chin was already in

disgrace; it was washing day, and hehad eaten a piece of soap. Andpresently in a basket of clean clothes,we found another dirty little pig."Tchut, tut, tut! whichever isthis?" grunted Aunt Pettitoes.

Now all the pig family are pink, orpink with black spots, but this pigchild was smutty black all over;when it had been popped into atub, it proved to be Yock-yock.

I went into the garden; there Ifound Cross-patch and Suck-suckrooting up carrots. I whipped themmyself and led them out by the ears.Cross-patch tried to bite me.

"Aunt Pettitoes, Aunt Pettitoes!you are a worthy person, but yourfamily is not well brought up.Every one of them has been in

mischief except Spot and PiglingBland."



"Yus, yus!" sighed AuntPettitoes. "And they drinkbucketfuls of milk; I shall have toget another cow! Good little Spotshall stay at home to do thehousework; but the others must go.Four little boy pigs and four little

girl pigs are too many altogether.""Yus, yus, yus," said Aunt Pettitoes,"there will be more to eat withoutthem."

So Chin-chin and Suck-suckwent away in a wheel-barrow, andStumpy, Yock-yock and Cross-patch rode away in a cart.

And the other two little boy pigs,

Pigling Bland and Alexander, wentto market. We brushed their coats,we curled their tails and washedtheir little faces, and wished themgood-bye in the yard.

Aunt Pettitoes wiped her eyeswith a large pocket handkerchief,then she wiped Pigling Bland's noseand shed tears; then she wipedAlexander's nose and shed tears;then she passed the handkerchiefto Spot. Aunt Pettitoes sighed

and grunted, and addressed thoselittle pigs as follows:

"Now Pigling Bland, son PiglingBland, you must go to market.Take your brother Alexander by thehand. Mind your Sunday clothes,and remember to blow your nose"--

(Aunt Pettitoes passed round thehandkerchief again)--"beware oftraps, hen roosts, bacon and eggs;always walk upon your hind legs."Pigling Bland, who was a sedatelittle pig, looked solemnly at hismother, a tear trickled down hischeek.

Aunt Pettitoes turned to theother--"Now son Alexander takethe hand"--"Wee, wee, wee!"giggled Alexander--"take thehand of your brother PiglingBland, you must go to market.Mind--" "Wee, wee, wee!" interrupted

Alexander again. "Youput me out," said Aunt Pettitoes.



But presently they made it upagain, and trotted away together,singing--

"Tom, Tom, the piper's son, stole a pigand away he ran!

"But all the tune that he could play,was 'Over the hills and far away!'"

"What's that, young sirs? Stolea pig? Where are your licences?"said the policeman. They hadnearly run against him round acorner. Pigling Bland pulled out hispaper; Alexander, after fumbling,handed over something scrumply--

"To 2 1/2 oz. conversation sweetiesat three farthings"--"What's this?This ain't a licence." Alexander'snose lengthened visibly, he had lostit. "I had one, indeed I had, Mr.Policeman!"

"It's not likely they let you startwithout. I am passing the farm.You may walk with me." "Can Icome back too?" inquired Pigling

Bland. "I see no reason, young sir;your paper is all right." PiglingBland did not like going on alone,and it was beginning to rain. Butit is unwise to argue with the police;he gave his brother a peppermint,and watched him out of sight.

To conclude the adventures ofAlexander--the policeman saunteredup to the house about teatime, followed by a damp subduedlittle pig. I disposed of Alexanderin the neighbourhood; he did fairlywell when he had settled down.

Pigling Bland went on alonedejectedly; he came to cross-roadsand a sign-post--"To Market Town,5 miles," "Over the Hills, 4 miles,""To Pettitoes Farm, 3 miles."

Pigling Bland was shocked,

there was little hope of sleeping inMarket Town, and to-morrow wasthe hiring fair; it was deplorable to



think how much time had beenwasted by the frivolity of Alexander.

He glanced wistfully along theroad towards the hills, and then setoff walking obediently the otherway, buttoning up his coat against

the rain. He had never wanted togo; and the idea of standing allby himself in a crowded market, tobe stared at, pushed, and hired bysome big strange farmer was verydisagreeable--

"I wish I could have a littlegarden and grow potatoes," saidPigling Bland.

He put his cold hand in hispocket and felt his paper, he put hisother hand in his other pocket andfelt another paper--Alexander's!Pigling squealed; then ran backfrantically, hoping to overtakeAlexander and the policeman.

He took a wrong turn--severalwrong turns, and was quite lost.

It grew dark, the wind whistled,

the trees creaked and groaned.

Pigling Bland became frightenedand cried "Wee, wee, wee! I can'tfind my way home!"

After an hour's wandering hegot out of the wood; the moonshone through the clouds, andPigling Bland saw a country thatwas new to him.

The road crossed a moor; belowwas a wide valley with a rivertwinkling in the moonlight, andbeyond, in misty distance, laythe hills.

He saw a small wooden hut,made his way to it, and creptinside--"I am afraid it IS a henhouse, but what can I do?" saidPigling Bland, wet and cold andquite tired out.

"Bacon and eggs, bacon and



eggs!" clucked a hen on a perch.

"Trap, trap, trap! cackle, cackle,cackle!" scolded the disturbedcockerel. "To market, to market!jiggetty jig!" clucked a broodywhite hen roosting next to him.

Pigling Bland, much alarmed,determined to leave at daybreak.In the meantime, he and the hensfell asleep.

In less than an hour they wereall awakened. The owner, Mr.Peter Thomas Piperson, came witha lantern and a hamper to catchsix fowls to take to market in themorning.

He grabbed the white henroosting next to the cock; thenhis eye fell upon Pigling Bland,squeezed up in a corner. He madea singular remark--"Hallo, here'sanother!"--seized Pigling by thescruff of the neck, and dropped himinto the hamper. Then he droppedin five more dirty, kicking, cacklinghens upon the top of Pigling Bland.

The hamper containing six fowls

and a young pig was no lightweight; it was taken down hill,unsteadily, with jerks. Pigling,although nearly scratched to pieces,contrived to hide the papers andpeppermints inside his clothes.

At last the hamper was bumpeddown upon a kitchen floor, the lidwas opened, and Pigling was liftedout. He looked up, blinking, andsaw an offensively ugly elderlyman, grinning from ear to ear.

"This one's come of himself,whatever," said Mr. Piperson,turning Pigling's pockets inside out.He pushed the hamper into acorner, threw a sack over it tokeep the hens quiet, put a pot onthe fire, and unlaced his boots.

Pigling Bland drew forward a

coppy stool, and sat on the edge ofit, shyly warming his hands. Mr.Piperson pulled off a boot and



threw it against the wainscot atthe further end of the kitchen.There was a smothered noise--"Shut up!" said Mr. Piperson.Pigling Bland warmed his hands,and eyed him.

Mr. Piperson pulled off the otherboot and flung it after the first,there was again a curious noise--"Be quiet, will ye?" said Mr.Piperson. Pigling Bland sat on thevery edge of the coppy stool.

Mr. Piperson fetched meal froma chest and made porridge. Itseemed to Pigling that something

at the further end of the kitchenwas taking a suppressed interest inthe cooking, but he was too hungryto be troubled by noises.

Mr. Piperson poured out threeplatefuls: for himself, for Pigling,and a third--after glaring at Pigling--he put away with much scuffling,and locked up. Pigling Bland atehis supper discreetly.

After supper Mr. Pipersonconsulted an almanac, and felt Pigling'sribs; it was too late in the seasonfor curing bacon, and he grudgedhis meal. Besides, the hens hadseen this pig.

He looked at the small remainsof a flitch, and then lookedundecidedly at Pigling. "You maysleep on the rug," said Mr. PeterThomas Piperson.

Pigling Bland slept like a top.In the morning Mr. Piperson mademore porridge; the weather waswarmer. He looked to see how muchmeal was left in the chest, andseemed dissatisfied--"You'll likelybe moving on again?" said he toPigling Bland.

Before Pigling could reply, aneighbour, who was giving Mr.

Piperson and the hens a lift,whistled from the gate. Mr. Pipersonhurried out with the hamper,



enjoining Pigling to shut the doorbehind him and not meddle withnought; or "I'll come back and skinye!" said Mr. Piperson.

It crossed Pigling's mind that if

HE had asked for a lift, too, hemight still have been in time formarket.

But he distrusted Peter Thomas.

After finishing breakfast at hisleisure, Pigling had a look roundthe cottage; everything was lockedup. He found some potato peelingsin a bucket in the back kitchen.

Pigling ate the peel, and washedup the porridge plates in the bucket.He sang while he worked--

"Tom with his pipe made such a noise,He called up all the girls and boys--

"And they all ran to hear him play"'Over the hills and far away!'"

Suddenly a little smothered voicechimed in--

"Over the hills and a great way off,The wind shall blow my top knot off!"

Pigling Bland put down a platewhich he was wiping, and listened.

After a long pause, Pigling wenton tip-toe and peeped round thedoor into the front kitchen. Therewas nobody there.

After another pause, Piglingapproached the door of the lockedcupboard, and snuffed at the key-hole. It was quite quiet.

After another long pause, Piglingpushed a peppermint under the door.It was sucked in immediately.

In the course of the day Pigling

pushed in all the remaining sixpeppermints.



When Mr. Piperson returned, hefound Pigling sitting before thefire; he had brushed up the hearthand put on the pot to boil; the mealwas not get-at-able.

Mr. Piperson was very affable;

he slapped Pigling on the back,made lots of porridge and forgotto lock the meal chest. He didlock the cupboard door; but withoutproperly shutting it. He wentto bed early, and told Pigling uponno account to disturb him next daybefore twelve o'clock.

Pigling Bland sat by the fire,eating his supper.

All at once at his elbow, a littlevoice spoke--"My name is Pig-wig. Make me more porridge,please!" Pigling Bland jumped,and looked round.

A perfectly lovely little blackBerkshire pig stood smiling besidehim. She had twinkly littlescrewed up eyes, a double chin,and a short turned up nose.

She pointed at Pigling's plate;he hastily gave it to her, andfled to the meal chest. "How didyou come here?" asked PiglingBland.

"Stolen," replied Pig-wig, withher mouth full. Pigling helpedhimself to meal without scruple."What for?" "Bacon, hams,"replied Pig-wig cheerfully. "Whyon earth don't you run away?"exclaimed the horrified Pigling.

"I shall after supper," said Pig-wig decidedly.

Pigling Bland made more porridgeand watched her shyly.

She finished a second plate, gotup, and looked about her, as thoughshe were going to start.

"You can't go in the dark," saidPigling Bland.



Pig-wig looked anxious.

"Do you know your way bydaylight?"

"I know we can see this littlewhite house from the hills across

the river. Which way are YOUgoing, Mr. Pig?"

"To market--I have two pigpapers. I might take you to thebridge; if you have no objection,"said Pigling much confused andsitting on the edge of his coppy stool.Pig-wig's gratitude was such and sheasked so many questions that itbecame embarrassing to Pigling Bland.

He was obliged to shut his eyesand pretend to sleep. She becamequiet, and there was a smell ofpeppermint.

"I thought you had eaten them,"said Pigling, waking suddenly.

"Only the corners," replied Pig-wig, studying the sentiments withmuch interest by the firelight.

"I wish you wouldn't; he mightsmell them through the ceiling,"said the alarmed Pigling.

Pig-wig put back the stickypeppermints into her pocket; "Singsomething," she demanded.

"I am sorry . . . I have tooth-ache," said Pigling much dismayed.

"Then I will sing," replied Pig-wig."You will not mind if I say iddytidditty? I have forgotten some ofthe words."

Pigling Bland made no objection;he sat with his eyes half shut, andwatched her.

She wagged her head and rockedabout, clapping time and singingin a sweet little grunty voice--

"A funny old mother pig lived in astye, and three little piggies had she;

"(Ti idditty idditty) umph, umph,



umph! and the little pigs said, wee, wee!"

She sang successfully throughthree or four verses, only at everyverse her head nodded a little lower,

and her little twinkly eyes closedup.

"Those three little piggies grew peakyand lean, and lean they might verywell be;

"For somehow they couldn't say umph,umph, umph! and they wouldn'tsay wee, wee, wee!

"For somehow they couldn't say--

Pig-wig's head bobbed lower andlower, until she rolled over, a littleround ball, fast asleep on the hearth-rug.

Pigling Bland, on tip-toe, coveredher up with an antimacassar.

He was afraid to go to sleephimself; for the rest of the night hesat listening to the chirping of thecrickets and to the snores of Mr.Piperson overhead.

Early in the morning, betweendark and daylight, Pigling tied uphis little bundle and woke up Pig-wig. She was excited and half-frightened. "But it's dark! Howcan we find our way?"

"The cock has crowed; we muststart before the hens come out; theymight shout to Mr. Piperson."

Pig-wig sat down again, andcommenced to cry.

"Come away Pig-wig; we can seewhen we get used to it. Come!I can hear them clucking!"

Pigling had never said shuh! toa hen in his life, being peaceable;also he remembered the hamper.

He opened the house door quietlyand shut it after them. There wasno garden; the neighbourhood of



Mr. Piperson's was all scratchedup by fowls. They slipped awayhand in hand across an untidy fieldto the road.

The sun rose while they were

crossing the moor, a dazzle of lightover the tops of the hills. Thesunshine crept down the slopesinto the peaceful green valleys,where little white cottages nestledin gardens and orchards.

"That's Westmorland," saidPig-wig. She dropped Pigling'shand and commenced to dance,singing--

"Tom, Tom, the piper's son, stole a pigand away he ran!

"But all the tune that he could play,was 'Over the hills and far away!'"

"Come, Pig-wig, we must get tothe bridge before folks are stirring.""Why do you want to go to market,Pigling?" inquired Pig-wig presently."I don't want; I want to

grow potatoes." "Have a peppermint?"said Pig-wig. PiglingBland refused quite crossly. "Doesyour poor toothy hurt?" inquiredPig-wig. Pigling Bland grunted.

Pig-wig ate the peppermintherself and followed the opposite sideof the road. "Pig-wig! keep underthe wall, there's a man ploughing."Pig-wig crossed over, they hurrieddown hill towards the county boundary.

Suddenly Pigling stopped; heheard wheels.

Slowly jogging up the road belowthem came a tradesman's cart. Thereins flapped on the horse's back,the grocer was reading a newspaper.

"Take that peppermint out of

your mouth, Pig-wig, we may haveto run. Don't say one word. Leaveit to me. And in sight of the bridge!"



said poor Pigling, nearly crying.He began to walk frightfully lame,holding Pig-wig's arm.

The grocer, intent upon his news-paper, might have passed them, if

his horse had not shied and snorted.He pulled the cart crossways, andheld down his whip. "Hallo!Where are YOU going to?"--PiglingBland stared at him vacantly.

"Are you deaf? Are you goingto market?" Pigling nodded slowly.

"I thought as much. It wasyesterday. Show me your licence?"

Pigling stared at the off hindshoe of the grocer's horse whichhad picked up a stone.

The grocer flicked his whip--"Papers? Pig licence?" Piglingfumbled in all his pockets, andhanded up the papers. The grocerread them, but still seemed dissatisfied."This here pig is a younglady; is her name Alexander?"Pig-wig opened her mouth and shut

it again; Pigling coughed asthmatically.

The grocer ran his finger downthe advertisement column of hisnewspaper--"Lost, stolen orstrayed, 10s. reward." He lookedsuspiciously at Pig-wig. Then hestood up in the trap, and whistledfor the ploughman.

"You wait here while I drive onand speak to him," said the grocer,gathering up the reins. He knewthat pigs are slippery; but surely,such a VERY lame pig could neverrun!

"Not yet, Pig-wig, he will lookback." The grocer did so; he sawthe two pigs stock-still in themiddle of the road. Then he lookedover at his horse's heels; it was

lame also; the stone took sometime to knock out, after he got tothe ploughman.



"Now, Pig-wig, NOW!" saidPigling Bland.

Never did any pigs run as thesepigs ran! They raced and squealedand pelted down the long white hill

towards the bridge. Little fat Pig-wig's petticoats fluttered, and herfeet went pitter, patter, pitter, as shebounded and jumped.

They ran, and they ran, and theyran down the hill, and across a shortcut on level green turf at the bottom,between pebble beds and rushes.

They came to the river, they

came to the bridge--they crossedit hand in hand--then over the hills and far awayshe danced with Pigling Bland!

THE END

THE TALE OF

TWO BAD MICE

ONCE upon a time therewas a very beautifuldoll's house; it was red brickwith white windows, and it hadreal muslin curtains and afront door and a chimney.

IT belonged to two Dollscalled Lucinda and Jane;at least it belonged to Lucinda,but she never ordered meals.

Jane was the Cook; but shenever did any cooking, becausethe dinner had been boughtready-made, in a box full ofshavings.

THERE were two red lobsters,and a ham, a fish,a pudding, and some pears and

oranges.

They would not come off the



plates, but they were extremelybeautiful.

ONE morning Lucinda andJane had gone out fora drive in the doll's perambulator.There was no one in the

nursery, and it was very quiet.Presently there was a littlescuffling, scratching noise in acorner near the fireplace, wherethere was a hole under theskirting-board.

Tom Thumb put out hishead for a moment, and thenpopped it in again.

Tom Thumb was a mouse.

A MINUTE afterwardsHunca Munca, his wife,put her head out, too; andwhen she saw that there wasno one in the nursery, sheventured out on the oilclothunder the coal-box.

THE doll's house stood atthe other side of thefireplace. Tom Thumb andHunca Munca went cautiously

across the hearth-rug. Theypushed the front door--it wasnot fast.

TOM THUMB and HuncaMunca went up-stairsand peeped into the dining-room. Then they squeakedwith joy!

Such a lovely dinner was laidout upon the table! There weretin spoons, and lead knivesand forks, and two dolly-chairs--all SO convenient!

TOM THUMB set to workat once to carve the ham.It was a beautiful shiny yellow,streaked with red.

The knife crumpled up andhurt him; he put his finger inhis mouth.

"It is not boiled enough; itis hard. You have a try,Hunca Munca."



HUNCA MUNCA stoodup in her chair, andchopped at the ham withanother lead knife.

"It's as hard as the hams

at the cheesemonger's," saidHunca Munca.

THE ham broke off theplate with a jerk, androlled under the table.

"Let it alone," said TomThumb; "give me some fish,Hunca Munca!"

HUNCA MUNCA tried

every tin spoon in turn;the fish was glued to the dish.

Then Tom Thumb lost histemper. He put the ham inthe middle of the floor, and hitit with the tongs and withthe shovel--bang, bang, smash,smash!

The ham flew all into pieces,for underneath the shiny paintit was made of nothing but

plaster!

THEN there was no end tothe rage and disappointmentof Tom Thumb and HuncaMunca. They broke upthe pudding, the lobsters,the pears, and the oranges.

As the fish would not comeoff the plate, they put it intothe red-hot crinkly paper firein the kitchen; but it wouldnot burn either.

TOM THUMB went up thekitchen chimney andlooked out at the top--therewas no soot.

WHILE Tom Thumb wasup the chimney, HuncaMunca had anotherdisappointment. She found sometiny canisters upon the dresser,

labeled "Rice," "Coffee""Sago"; but when she turnedthem upside down there was



nothing inside except red andblue beads.

THEN those mice set towork to do all the mischiefthey could--especiallyTom Thumb! He took Jane's

clothes out of the chest ofdrawers in her bedroom, andhe threw them out of the top-floor window.

But Hunca Munca had afrugal mind. After pullinghalf the feathers out ofLucinda's bolster, she rememberedthat she herself was in want ofa feather-bed.

WITH Tom Thumb'sassistance she carried thebolster down-stairs and acrossthe hearth-rug. It was difficultto squeeze the bolster into themouse-hole; but they managedit somehow.

THEN Hunca Munca wentback and fetched a chair,a bookcase, a bird-cage, andseveral small odds and ends.The bookcase and the bird-cage

refused to go into the mouse-hole.

HUNCA MUNCA leftthem behind the coal-box, and went to fetch a cradle.

HUNCA MUNCA wasjust returning withanother chair, when suddenlythere was a noise of talkingoutside upon the landing. Themice rushed back to their hole,and the dolls came into thenursery.

WHAT a sight met theeyes of Jane andLucinda!

Lucinda sat upon the upsetkitchen stove and stared, andJane leaned against the kitchendresser and smiled; but neitherof them made any remark.

THE bookcase and the bird-cage were rescued fromunder the coal-box; but Hunca



Munca has got the cradle andsome of Lucinda's clothes.

SHE also has some usefulpots and pans, and severalother things.

THE little girl that the doll'shouse belonged to said:"I will get a doll dressed like apoliceman!"

BUT the nurse said: "I willset a mouse-trap!"

SO that is the story of thetwo Bad Mice. But theywere not so very, very naughtyafter all, because Tom Thumb

paid for everything he broke.

He found a crooked sixpenceunder the hearth-rug; and uponChristmas Eve he and HuncaMunca stuffed it into one ofthe stockings of Lucinda andJane.

AND very early every morning--before anybody isawake--Hunca Munca comeswith her dust-pan and her

broom to sweep the Dollies'house!

THE END

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A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories - Beatrix Potter - 1922

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