THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE
THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE 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 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 f
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THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE
THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE
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 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 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.
