THE
TALE
OF
MRS.
TIGGY
WINKLE
BY
BEATRIX
POTTER
Once
upon
a
time
there
was
a
little
girl
called
Lucie,
who
lived
at
a
farm
called
Little
town.
She
was
a
good
little
girl,
only
she
was
always
losing
her
pocket
handkerchiefs!
One
day
little
Lucie
came
into
the
farm
yard
crying,
oh,
she
did
cry
so!
"I've
lost
my
pocket
handkin!
Three
handkins
and
a
pinny!
Have
you
seen
them,
Tabby
Kitten?"
The
Kitten
went
on
washing
her
white
paws;
so
Lucie
asked
a
speckled
hen,
"Sally
Henny
penny,
have
you
found
three
pocket
handkins?"
But
the
speckled
hen
ran
into
a
barn,
clucking,
"I
go
barefoot,
barefoot,
barefoot!"
And
then
Lucie
asked
Cock
Robin
sitting
on
a
twig.
Cock
Robin
looked
sideways
at
Lucie
with
his
bright
black
eye,
and
he
flew
over
a
stile
and
away.
Lucie
climbed
upon
the
stile
and
looked
up
at
the
hill
behind
Little
town,
a
hill
that
goes
up,
up,
into
the
clouds
as
though
it
had
no
top!
And
a
great
way
up
the
hill
side
she
thought
she
saw
some
white
things
spread
upon
the
grass.
Lucie
scrambled
up
the
hill
as
fast
as
her
stout
legs
would
carry
her;
she
ran
along
a
steep
path
way,
up
and
up,
until
Little
town
was
right
away
down
below,
she
could
have
dropped
a
pebble
down
the
chimney!
Presently
she
came
to
a
spring,
bubbling
out
from
the
hill
side.
Some
one
had
stood
a
tin
can
upon
a
stone
to
catch
the
water,
but
the
water
was
already
running
over,
for
the
can
was
no
bigger
than
an
egg
cup!
And
where
the
sand
upon
the
path
was
wet,
there
were
foot
marks
of
a very
small
person.
Lucie
ran
on,
and
on.
The
path
ended
under
a
big
rock.
The
grass
was
short
and
green,
and
there
were
clothes,
props
cut
from
bracken
stems,
with
lines
of
plaited
rushes,
and
a
heap
of
tiny
clothes
pins,
but
no
pocket
handkerchiefs!
But
there
was
something
else,
a
door!
straight
into
the
hill;
and
inside
it
some
one
was
singing,
"Lily
white
and
clean,
oh!
With
little
frills
between,
oh!
Smooth
and
hot,
red
rusty
spot
Never
here
be
seen,
oh!"
Lucie,
knocked,
once,
twice,
and
interrupted
the
song.
A
little
frightened
voice
called
out
"Who's
that?"
Lucie
opened
the
door:
and
what
do
you
think
there
was
inside
the
hill?,
a
nice
clean
kitchen
with
a
flagged
floor
and
wooden
beams,
just
like
any
other
farm
kitchen.
Only
the
ceiling
was
so
low
that
Lucie's
head
nearly
touched
it;
and
the
pots
and
pans
were
small,
and
so
was
everything
there.
There
was
a
nice
hot
singey
smell;
and
at
the
table,
with
an
iron
in
her
hand
stood
a
very
stout
short
person
staring
anxiously
at
Lucie.
Her
print
gown
was
tucked
up,
and
she
was
wearing
a
large
apron
over
her
striped
petticoat.
Her
little
black
nose
went
sniffle,
sniffle,
snuffle,
and
her
eyes
went
twinkle,
twinkle;
and
underneath
her
cap,
where
Lucie
had
yellow
curls,
that
little
person
had
PRICKLES!
"Who
are
you?"
said
Lucie.
"Have
you
seen
my
pocket
handkins?"
The
little
person
made
a
bob
curtsey,
"Oh,
yes,
if
you
please'm;
my
name
is
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle;
oh,
yes
if
you
please'm,
I'm
an
excellent
clear
starcher!"
And
she
took
something
out
of
a
clothes
basket,
and
spread
it
on
the
ironing
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
coat
belonging
to
Cock
Robin!"
And
she
ironed
it
and
folded
it,
and
put
it
on
one
side.
Then
she
took
something
else
off
a
clothes
horse,
"That
isn't
my
pinny?"
said
Lucie.
"Oh
no,
if
you
please'm;
that's
a
damask
table
cloth
belonging
to
Jenny
Wren;
look
how
it's
stained
with
currant
wine!
It's
very
bad
to
wash!"
said
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle.
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle's
nose
went
sniffle,
sniffle,
snuffle,
and
her
eyes
went
twinkle,
twinkle;
and
she
fetched
another
hot
iron
from
the
fire.
"There's
one
of
my
pocket
handkins!"
cried
Lucie,
"and
there's
my
pinny!"
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle
ironed
it,
and
goffered
it,
and
shook
out
the
frills.
"Oh
that
is
lovely!"
said
Lucie.
"And
what
are
those
long
yellow
things
with
fingers
like
gloves?"
"Oh,
that's
a
pair
of
stockings
belonging
to
Sally
Henny
penny,
look
how
she's
worn
the
heels
out
with
scratching
in
the
yard!
She'll
very
soon
go
barefoot!"
said
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle.
"Why,
there's
another
handkersniff,
but
it
isn't
mine;
it's
red?"
"Oh
no,
if
you
please'm;
that
one
belongs
to
old
Mrs.
Rabbit;
and
it
did
so
smell
of
onions!
I've
had
to
wash
it
separately,
I
can't
get
out
the
smell."
"There's
another
one
of
mine,"
said
Lucie.
"What
are
those
funny
little
white
things?"
"That's
a
pair
of
mittens
belonging
to
Tabby
Kitten;
I
only
have
to
iron
them;
she
washes
them
herself."
"There's
my
last
pocket
handkin!"
said
Lucie.
"And
what
are
you
dipping
into
the
basin
of
starch?"
"They're
little
dicky
shirt
fronts
belonging
to
Tom
Titmouse,
most
terrible
particular!"
said
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle.
"Now
I've
finished
my
ironing;
I'm
going
to
air
some
clothes."
"What
are
these
dear
soft
fluffy
things?"
said
Lucie.
"Oh
those
are
woolly
coats
belonging
to
the
little
lambs
at
Skelghyl."
"Will
their
jackets
take
off?"
asked
Lucie.
"Oh
yes,
if
you
please'm;
look
at
the
sheep
mark
on
the
shoulder.
And
here's
one
marked
for
Gatesgarth,
and
three
that
come
from
Little
town.
They're
always
marked
at
washing!"
said
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle.
And
she
hung
up
all
sorts
and
sizes
of
clothes,
small
brown
coats
of
mice;
and
one
velvety
black
moleskin
waist
coat;
and
a
red
tailcoat
with
no
tail
belonging
to
Squirrel
Nutkin;
and
a
very
much
shrunk
blue
jacket
belonging
to
Peter
Rabbit;
and
a
petticoat,
not
marked,
that
had
gone
lost
in
the
washing,
and
at
last
the
basket
was
empty!
"Then
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle
made
tea,
a
cup
for
herself
and
a
cup
for
Lucie.
They
sat
before
the
fire
on
a
bench
and
looked
sideways
at
one
another.
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle's
hand,
holding
the
tea
cup,
was
very
very
brown,
and
very
very
wrinkly
with
the
soap
suds;
and
all
through
her
gown
and
her
cap,
there
were
hair
pins
sticking
wrong
end
out;
so
that
Lucie
didn't
like
to
sit
too
near
her.
When
they
had
finished
tea,
they
tied
up
the
clothes
in
bundles;
and
Lucie's
pocket
handkerchiefs
were
folded
up
inside
her
clean
pinny,
and
fastened
with
a
silver
safety
pin.
And
then
they
made
up
the
fire
with
turf,
and
came
out
and
locked
the
door,
and
hid
the
key
under
the
door
sill.
Then
away
down
the
hill
trotted
Lucie
and
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle
with
the
bundles
of
clothes!
All
the
way
down
the
path
little
animals
came
out
of
the
fern
to
meet
them;
the
very
first
that
they
met
were
Peter
Rabbit
and
Benjamin
Bunny!
And
she
gave
them
their
nice
clean
clothes;
and
all
the
little
animals
and
birds
were
so
very
much
obliged
to
dear
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle.
So
that
at
the
bottom
of
the
hill
when
they
came
to
the
stile,
there
was
nothing
left
to
carry
except
Lucie's
one
little
bundle.
Lucie
scrambled
up
the
stile
with
the
bundle
in
her
hand;
and
then
she
turned
to
say
"Good
night,"
and
to
thank
the
washer
woman,
But
what
a very
odd
thing!
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle
had
not
waited
either
for
thanks
or
for
the
washing
bill!
She
was
running
running
running
up
the
hill,
and
where
was
her
white
frilled
cap?
and
her
shawl?
and
her
gown,
and
her
petticoat?
And
how
small
she
had
grown,
and
how
brown,
and
covered
with
PRICKLES!
Why!
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle
was
nothing
but
a
HEDGEHOG.
(Now
some
people
say
that
little
Lucie
had
been
asleep
upon
the
stile,
but
then
how
could
she
have
found
three
clean
pocket
handkins
and
a
pinny,
pinned
with
a
silver
safety
pin?
And
besides,
I
have
seen
that
door
into
the
back
of
the
hill
called
Cat
Bells,
and
besides
I
am
very
well
acquainted
with
dear
Mrs.
Tiggy
winkle!)
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