"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