Скачать с ютуб The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle by Beatrix Potter | Read Aloud | Storytime with Jared в хорошем качестве

The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle by Beatrix Potter | Read Aloud | Storytime with Jared

View all our content at: https://storytimewithjared.com/ Follow Jared on Twitter at   / mcjaredmadsen   Follow Jared on Instagram at   / mcjaredmadsen   The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle by Beatrix Potter | Read Aloud | Storytime with Jared Buy the book to read along with us! https://amzn.to/3PEHc8t — — — 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!" Through the door 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. ... — — — Music Composed and Performed by Nemo Re