"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It
takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who
break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.
Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved
off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very
shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are
Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had
not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the
Skin Horse only smiled.

The Skin Horse Tells His Story

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years
ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for
always."

The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this
magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know
what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his
eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it
without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she
took no notice of the playthings lying about, and sometimes, for no
reason whatever, she went swooping about like a great wind and hustled
them away in cupboards. She called this "tidying up," and the
playthings all hated it, especially the tin ones. The Rabbit didn't