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 hankersniff— 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 that 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 them 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 Titmouse—most terrible particular!" said Mrs. Tiggy- 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.
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