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 the clothesbasket, and spread it
on the ironing-blanket.

"What's that thing?" said Lucie-