The Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter - The Original Classic Edition. Potter Beatrix

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 hillside she thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.

       Lucie scrambled up the hill as fast as her short 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 hillside.

       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 footmarks 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--

       13

       "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.