Knjigice
Fairy tale · Animal stories
The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle
The little girl who lost her handkerchiefs, and the washerwoman of the high fell
Also in: Zgodba o gospe Ježevki (Slovenian) · Rozprávka o pani Ježkovej (Slovak)
On a farm below a tall green hill lived a little girl called Lucie, who was always losing things. One day she lost three pocket-handkerchiefs and her pinafore! "Kitten," she asked the cat, "have you seen my handkerchiefs?" But the kitten only licked her white paw. Then she asked the speckled hen, who clucked: "I go barefoot, quite barefoot!" The handkerchiefs were nowhere to be found.
1
Lucie looked up at the hill that rose high above the farm. Far, far up she thought she saw something white lying in the grass — like handkerchiefs spread out to dry! She climbed over the gate and set off up the steep little path. A robin hopped along beside her, cocking his head, and the sheep-paths wound higher and higher until the farm below looked quite tiny.
2
High under the hilltop a spring trickled out from beneath a rock, and pressed into the soft grass beside it were tiny wet footprints. The path led Lucie to a little door in the hillside, hidden behind a clump of harebells. Through the crack came a smell of freshly ironed linen, and inside somebody was singing thinly: "Lily-white and clean, oh! I wash and iron till everything shines!" Lucie knocked bravely.
3
The door opened, and Lucie stepped into a tiny kitchen with a stone floor and a warm fire. At the ironing table stood a small round washerwoman in a wide striped apron — and through her white frilled cap poked... prickles! "Come in, my dear," she smiled. "I am Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, the best washerwoman and ironer on all the hill. I'm just ironing."
4
Lucie sat on a little stool and watched. "This scarlet waistcoat belongs to the robin," said Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, smoothing it out. "See how small it is!" Then she took soft woolly coats out of the basket: "And these belong to the lambs from the high pastures. Each one has its own mark woven in, so I know whose is whose." The iron went cheerfully: thump, thump, thump.
5
The laundry seemed to have no end: Mr. Mole's velvet jacket, the cats' soft mittens — "I wash their mittens, but they must wash their paws themselves!" — and a pile of stockings for the birds. At the very bottom of the basket — three handkerchiefs and a pinafore! "Those are mine!" cried Lucie. "Of course, my dear," nodded Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle. "All washed and ironed for you."
6
When all the laundry was washed, ironed and tied into snow-white bundles, they had tea. They sat by the fire, drank from tiny cups and nibbled bread and honey. Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle told Lucie who sent her their washing: everyone on the hill, from the smallest mouse to the oldest sheep. Outside, the afternoon was slowly turning to evening.
7
Then they locked the little door and carried the bundles down the hill. The whole path smelled of clean laundry. The robin got his scarlet waistcoat and sang for joy. The lambs tried on their clean coats and skipped about the pasture. Mr. Mole bowed politely and carried his velvet jacket straight down into his burrow.
8
At the wooden stile in the wall, Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle handed Lucie the very last bundle: three freshly ironed handkerchiefs and a neatly folded pinafore. "Thank you, thank you so much!" said Lucie, and bent down to hug her. But the washerwoman only bobbed a quick curtsy, picked up her baskets and scurried off up the path without a word — faster and faster, smaller and smaller.
9
Lucie stared after her. But where were her cap and her apron? Where was her wide gown? How small and brown she looked — and how prickly! Running up the path was no washerwoman at all, but a real little brown hedgehog. And some people say Lucie dreamed it all — but then where did the three freshly ironed handkerchiefs come from, which she never lost again?
10The End
