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!)

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 a Pussy-cat called Ribby, who invited a little dog called Duchess to tea.

“Come in good time, my dear Duchess,” said Ribby’s letter, “and we will have something so very nice.  I am baking it in a pie-dish—­a pie-dish with a pink rim.  You never tasted anything so good!  And you shall eat it all! I will eat muffins, my dear Duchess!” wrote Ribby.

“I will come very punctually, my dear Ribby,” wrote Duchess; and then at the end she added—­“I hope it isn’t mouse?”

And then she thought that did not look quite polite; so she scratched out “isn’t mouse” and changed it to “I hope it will be fine,” and she gave her letter to the postman.

But she thought a great deal about Ribby’s pie, and she read Ribby’s letter over and over again.

“I am dreadfully afraid it will be mouse!” said Duchess to herself—­“I really couldn’t, couldn’t eat mouse pie.  And I shall have to eat it, because it is a party.  And my pie was going to be veal and ham.  A pink and white pie-dish! and so is mine; just like Ribby’s dishes; they were both bought at Tabitha Twitchit’s.”

Duchess went into her larder and took the pie off a shelf and looked at it.

“Oh what a good idea!  Why shouldn’t I rush along and put my pie into Ribby’s oven when Ribby isn’t there?”

Ribby in the meantime had received Duchess’s answer, and as soon as she was sure that the little dog would come—­she popped her pie into the oven.  There were two ovens, one above the other; some other knobs and handles were only ornamental and not intended to open.  Ribby put the pie into the lower oven; the door was very stiff.