The Tale of Peter Rabbit

Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank, under the root of a big fir-tree.

One morning Mrs. Rabbit said, “Now, my dears, you may go into the fields, or down the lane, but do not go into Mr. McGregor’s garden. Your Father had an accident there. He was put into a pie by Mrs. McGregor. So please be very careful.” Then she took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the woods to the baker’s, to buy a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns.

Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries.

But Peter, who was very curious and not very good, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor’s garden. He squeezed under the small gate at the bottom of the wall and—hop, hop, hop—he was inside!

First he ate some lettuces. Then he ate some French beans. Then he ate some radishes. After that, because he ate so much, he felt rather sick, and went to look for some parsley.

Round the end of the cucumber frame, who should he meet but Mr. McGregor! Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees, planting cabbages. He jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and shouting, “Stop, thief!”

Peter was terribly frightened. He forgot the way back to the gate. He rushed about the garden, here and there, losing one shoe among the cabbages and the other shoe among the potatoes. Without his shoes he ran even faster, but then he ran straight into a gooseberry net, and the large brass buttons on his blue jacket got caught.

Poor Peter shed big tears. Two friendly sparrows flew to him and chirped, “Try, try!” Peter wiggled and tugged as hard as he could. Mr. McGregor came running with a sieve to pop over Peter. But at the very last moment, Peter wriggled out of his jacket and was free!

Mr. McGregor held up the little blue jacket and the shoes. Later, he hung them on a scarecrow to frighten the blackbirds—and, perhaps, a certain little rabbit.

Peter ran to the tool-shed and jumped into a watering-can. It had water in it. The water was cold. Peter tried not to breathe, but he couldn’t help it. “Kertyschoo!” he sneezed.

Mr. McGregor heard the sneeze and came at once. Peter darted out, knocking over three flower-pots. Crash! Clatter! He scampered through the shed and squeezed out of a small window. It was just the right size for a little rabbit, but much too small for Mr. McGregor.

Out in the garden again, Peter sat down to rest. He was out of breath and shaking, and he had no jacket, no shoes, and no idea which way to go. Then he saw a white cat sitting very still and watching some goldfish. Peter had heard about cats. He tiptoed away as quietly as he could.

He went back to the gooseberry bushes, then round by a wheelbarrow, and at last he found the wall. Beyond it, he saw the little gate. Peter ran as fast as he could go. He slid under the gate—scritch-scritch!—and finally he was outside the garden.

Peter did not stop running until he reached the big fir-tree. He was so tired that he flopped down on the soft sand inside his home and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking. She wondered what he had done with his clothes, but Peter did not feel well enough to explain.

Peter was not very well that evening. Mrs. Rabbit put him to bed and made some chamomile tea. “One tablespoonful to be taken at bedtime,” she said kindly.

But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who had been good all day, had bread and milk and blackberries for their supper.