"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 a clothes- basket, and spread it on the ironing-blanket. "What's that thing?" said Lucie--"that's not by 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 goffered it, and shook out the frills. "Oh that is lovely!" said Lucie. "AND what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?" "Oh, that's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henny-penny --look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard! She'll very soon go barefoot!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. "WHY, there's another handkersniff--but it isn't mine; it's red?" "Oh no, if you please'm; that one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit; and it did so smell of onions! I've had to wash it separately, I can't get out the smell." "There's another one of mine," said Lucie. "WHAT are those funny little white things?" "That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten; I only have to iron them; she washes then herself." "There's my last pocket- handkin!" said Lucie. "AND what are you dipping into the basin of starch?" "They're little dicky shirt-fronts belonging to Tom Tits-mouse --most terrible particular!" said Mrs. Tiddy-winkle. "Now I've finished my ironing; I'm going to air some clothes." "WHAT are these dear soft fluffy things?" said Lucie. "Oh those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelghyl." "Will their jackets take-off?" asked Lucie. "Oh yes, if you please'm; look at the sheep-mark on the shoulder. And here's one marked for Gatesgarth, and three that come from Little-town. They're always marked at washing!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. AND she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes-- small brown coats of mice; and one velvety black mole-skin waist coat; and a red tail-coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin; and a very much shrunk jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit; and a petticoat, not marked, that had gone lost in the washing --and at last the basket was empty! THEN Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea--a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie. They sat before a fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another.