The Velveteen Rabbit & Other Stories (2 page)

“Then stretch them out and show me, like this!” said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.

“I don't like dancing,” he said. “I'd rather sit still!”

But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump
about like these rabbits did.

The strange rabbit stopped dancing, and came quite close. He came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed the Velveteen Rabbit's ear, and then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backwards.

“He doesn't smell right!” he exclaimed. “He isn't a rabbit at all! He isn't real!”

“I
am
Real!” said the little Rabbit. “I am Real! The Boy said so!” And he nearly began to cry.

Just then there was a sound of footsteps, and the Boy ran past near them, and with a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails the two strange rabbits disappeared.

“Come back and play with me!” called the
little Rabbit. “Oh, do come back! I
know
I am Real!”

But there was no answer, only the little ants ran to and fro, and the bracken swayed gently where the two strangers had passed. The Velveteen Rabbit was all alone.

“Oh, dear!” he thought. “Why did they run away like that? Why couldn't they stop and talk to me?”

For a long time he lay very still, watching the bracken, and hoping that they would come back. But they never returned, and presently the sun sank lower and the little white moths fluttered out, and the Boy came and carried him home.

Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him
just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real, shabbiness doesn't matter.

And then, one day, the Boy was ill.

His face grew very flushed, and he talked in his sleep, and his little body was so hot that it burned the Rabbit when he held him close. Strange people came and went in the
nursery, and a light burned all night and through it all the little Velveteen Rabbit lay there, hidden from sight under the bedclothes, and he never stirred, for he was afraid that if they found him some one might take him away, and he knew that the Boy needed him.

It was a long weary time, for the Boy was too ill to play, and the little Rabbit found it rather dull with nothing to do all day long. But he snuggled down patiently, and looked forward to the time when the Boy should be well again, and they would go out in the garden amongst the flowers and the butterflies and play splendid games in the raspberry thicket like they used to. All sorts of delightful things he planned, and while the
Boy lay half asleep he crept up close to the pillow and whispered them in his ear. And presently the fever turned, and the Boy got better. He was able to sit up in bed and look at picture books, while the little Rabbit cuddled close at his side. And one day, they let him get up and dress.

It was a bright, sunny morning, and the windows stood wide open. They had carried the Boy out on to the balcony, wrapped in a shawl, and the little Rabbit lay tangled up among the bedclothes, thinking.

The Boy was going to the seaside tomorrow. Everything was arranged, and now it only remained to carry out the doctor's orders. They talked about it all, while the little Rabbit lay under the bedclothes, with
just his head peeping out, and listened. The room was to be disinfected, and all the books and toys that the Boy had played with in bed must be burnt.

“Hurrah!” thought the little Rabbit. “Tomorrow we shall go to the seaside!” For the Boy had often talked of the seaside, and he wanted very much to see the big waves coming in, and the tiny crabs, and the sand castles.

Just then Nana caught sight of him.

“How about his old Bunny?” she asked.

“That?”
said the doctor. “Why, it's a mass of scarlet fever germs!—Burn it at once. What? Nonsense! Get him a new one. He mustn't have that any more!”

And so the little Rabbit was put into a
sack with the old picture-books and a lot of rubbish, and carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl-house. That was a fine place to make a bonfire, only the gardener was too busy just then to attend to it. He had the potatoes to dig and the green peas to gather, but next morning he promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot.

That night the Boy slept in a different bedroom, and he had a new bunny to sleep with him. It was a splendid bunny, all white plush with real glass eyes, but the Boy was too excited to care very much about it. For tomorrow he was going to the seaside, and that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else.

And while the Boy was asleep, dreaming
of the seaside, the little Rabbit lay among the old picture-books in the corner behind the fowl-house, and he felt very lonely. The sack had been left untied, and so by wriggling a bit he was able to get his head through the opening and look out. He was shivering a little, for he had always been used to sleeping in a proper bed, and by this time his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from hugging that it was no longer any protection to him. Near by he could see the thicket of raspberry canes, growing tall and close like a tropical jungle, in whose shadow he had played with the Boy on bygone mornings. He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden—how happy they were—and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass
before him, each more beautiful than the other, the fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real. He thought of the Skin Horse, so wise and gentle, and all that he had told him. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this? And a tear, a real tear, trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground.

And then a strange thing happened. For where the tear had fallen a flower grew out of the ground, a mysterious flower, not at all like any that grew in the garden. It had slender green leaves the colour of emeralds, and
in the center of the leaves a blossom like a golden cup. It was so beautiful that the little Rabbit forgot to cry, and just lay there watching it.

And presently the blossom opened, and out of it there stepped a fairy.

She was quite the loveliest fairy in the whole world. Her dress was of pearl and dew-drops, and there were flowers round her neck and in her hair, and her face was like the most perfect flower, of all. And she came close to the little Rabbit and gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying.

“Little Rabbit,” she said, “don't you know who I am?”

The Rabbit looked up at her, and it seemed to him that he had seen her face before, but he couldn't think where.

“I am the nursery magic Fairy,” she said. “I take care of all the playthings that the children have loved. When they are old and worn out and the children don't need them any more, then I come and take them away with me and turn them into Real.”

“Wasn't I Real before?” asked the little Rabbit.

“You were Real to the Boy,” the Fairy said, “because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to every one.”

And she held the little Rabbit close in her arms and flew with him into the wood.

It was light now, for the moon had risen.
All the forest was beautiful, and the fronds of the bracken shone like frosted silver. In the open glade between the tree-trunks the wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass, but when they saw the Fairy they all stopped dancing and stood round in a ring to stare at her.

“I've brought you a new playfellow,” the Fairy said. “You must be very kind to him and teach him all he needs to know in Rabbit-land, for he is going to live with you for ever and ever!”

And she kissed the little Rabbit again and put him down on the grass.

“Run and play, little Rabbit!” she said.

But the little Rabbit sat quite still for a moment and never moved. For when he saw
all the wild rabbits dancing around him he suddenly remembered about his hind legs, and he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece. He did not know that when the Fairy kissed him that last time she had changed him altogether. And he might have sat there a long time, too shy to move, if just then something hadn't tickled his nose, and before he thought what he was doing he lifted his hind toe to scratch it.

And he found that he actually had hind legs! Instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur, soft and shiny, his ears twitched by themselves, and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass. He gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about
the turf on them, jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did, and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the Fairy she had gone.

He was a Real Rabbit at last, at home with the other rabbits.

 

Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and
his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:

“Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!”

But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.

O
nce upon a time, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was the most beautiful of all. On warm days, the youngest princess liked to sit by the side of a nearby well. When she was bored she would throw a golden ball, her favorite toy, up high and catch it.

One day, the princess's ball rolled straight into the water. She looked inside, but the well was so deep that the bottom
could not be seen. She began to cry until a voice said, “What ails you, Princess? You weep so that even a stone would show pity.”

The princess looked around and saw a frog stretching forth his big, ugly head from the water.

“I am weeping for my golden ball, which has fallen into the well,” she said.

“Do not weep,” answered the frog. “I can help you, but what will you give me if I bring your ball up again?”

“Whatever you want, dear frog,” said she, “my clothes, my pearls and jewels, and even the golden crown that I am wearing.”

The frog answered, “I do not want anything but for you to love me and let me be your friend, and let me sit by you at your
little table, and eat off your little golden plate, and drink out of your little cup, and sleep in your little bed. If you will promise me this, I will bring your golden ball up again.”

“Oh, yes,” said she, “I promise you all you wish, if you will but bring me my ball back again.” But she thought,
As if a silly frog could really be a person's friend!

The frog dove into the water and retrieved the ball. The delighted princess picked it up and ran quickly away.

“Wait!” called the frog. “Take me with you. I can't run as fast as you!” But the princess ran to the castle without looking back.

The next day, while she was dining with the king and all the courtiers, something crept
splish-splash, splish-splash
up the
marble staircase, and then knocked at the door and cried, “Princess, open the door for me!” She ran to open the door, and there sat the ugly frog. Frightened, she slammed the door and sat down to dinner again. The king saw plainly that she was afraid and said to her, “Daughter, why are you so afraid? Is there perchance a giant outside who wants to carry you away?”

“It is no giant but a disgusting frog,” replied the princess. She explained what had happened at the well. In the meantime, the frog knocked a second time and called for her again.

The king said, “What you promised, you must do. Go and let him in.” She went and opened the door, and the frog hopped in
and followed her, step by step, to her chair. And so the frog sat by her at the table, ate off her little golden plate, and drank out of her little cup. The frog enjoyed himself, but almost every spoonful the princess ate choked her. After dinner, he said, “Now I am tired. Carry me into your little room, and we will both lie down and go to sleep.”

The king's daughter began to cry, for she was afraid of the cold frog and did not want him to sleep in her pretty, clean little bed. But the king grew angry and said, “He helped you when you were in trouble and should not be despised by you now.” So she took hold of the frog with two fingers, carried him into her room, and put him on her bed.

The frog said, “Now give me a goodnight
kiss or I will tell your father.” The princess shut her eyes and kissed the frog on his clammy cheek. When she opened her eyes, he was no longer a frog but a king's son, with kind and beautiful eyes. The prince told her how he had been bewitched by an evil fairy to live as a frog, and how no one could have delivered him from the well but herself. The next day, the prince and princess celebrated a joyful wedding and went together to rule his kingdom and live happily ever after.