Once upon a time, there were four little rabbits. Their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. They lived with their mother in a sand-bank under the root of a very big fir tree.

"Now, my dears," said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, "you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden. Your father had an accident there — and I'd rather not talk about it."

Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to pick blackberries. But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight to Mr. McGregor's garden and squeezed under the gate.

First he ate some lettuces. Then he ate some French beans. Then he ate some radishes. He ate so much that he began to feel quite sick.

He went to look for some parsley to settle his stomach.

But at the end of the cucumber patch, who should he meet but Mr. McGregor!

Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting cabbages, and he jumped up and shouted, "Stop, thief!" and chased Peter, waving a rake.

Peter was dreadfully frightened. He ran all over the garden, this way and that. He had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one shoe among the cabbages and the other shoe among the potatoes.

He ran on four legs and went faster, but Mr. McGregor was always right behind him. Peter darted into a gooseberry bush and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket.

His jacket was quite new, with brass buttons. Peter gave it up for lost and wriggled out of it just in time.

He rushed into the tool shed and jumped into a watering can. It was a fine hiding place — except that it was half full of cold water.

Mr. McGregor was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the tool shed. He looked under every flowerpot, one by one. Peter sneezed — "Atchoo!" — and Mr. McGregor looked around sharply.

Peter hopped out the window, knocking over three flowerpots, and ran as fast as he could. The garden seemed enormous and strange, and Peter didn't know where he was at all.

He came to a pond. A white cat was sitting very still, staring at some goldfish. Peter didn't dare ask her for directions.

Then he heard the scratching noise of a hoe. Peter crept closer and peeked around a corner. There was Mr. McGregor, with his back turned, hoeing onions. And beyond him — the gate!

Peter ran as fast as he could go, straight past Mr. McGregor, and squeezed under the gate. He was safe at last in the wood outside.

Mr. McGregor hung up Peter's little jacket and shoes as a scarecrow, to frighten the blackbirds.

Peter never stopped running until he got home. He was so tired that he flopped down on the soft sand on the floor of the rabbit hole and closed his eyes.

His mother was busy cooking. She wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was the second jacket and pair of shoes he had lost in a fortnight.

That evening, Peter was not feeling well. His mother put him to bed and made him chamomile tea. "One tablespoon at bedtime," she said.

But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper.