He pricked his ears and listened to the trit-trot, trit-trot of a pony.

A gig was coming along the road; it was driven by Mr. McGregor, and beside
him sat Mrs. McGregor in her best bonnet.

As soon as they had passed, little Benjamin Bunny slid down into the road,
and set off--with a hop, skip, and a jump--to call upon his relations, who
lived in the wood at the back of Mr. McGregor's garden.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

That wood was full of rabbit holes; and in the neatest, sandiest hole of
all lived Benjamin's aunt and his cousins--Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and
Peter.

Old Mrs. Rabbit was a widow; she earned her living by knitting rabbit-wool
mittens and muffatees (I once bought a pair at a bazaar). She also sold
herbs, and rosemary tea, and rabbit-tobacco (which is what we call
lavender).

Little Benjamin did not very much want to see his Aunt.

He came round the back of the fir-tree, and nearly tumbled upon the top of
his Cousin Peter.

[Illustration]