er white paws; so Lucie asked a speckled hen--

"Sally Henny-penny, have _you_ found three pocket-handkins?"

But the speckled hen ran into a barn, clucking--

"I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot!"

[Illustration]

And then Lucie asked Cock Robin sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucie with his bright black eye, and he flew
over a stile and away.

Lucie climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind
Little-town--a hill that goes up--up--into the clouds as though it had no
top!

And a great way up the hill-side she thought she saw some white things
spread upon the grass.

[Illustration]

Lucie scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her; she
ran along a steep path-way--up and up--until Little-town was right away
down below--she could have dropped a pebble down the chimney!

[Illustration]

Presently she came to a spring, bubbling out from the hill-side.

Some one had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water--but the
water was already running over, for the can was no bigger than an egg-cup!
And where the sand upon the path was wet--there were foot-marks of a
_very_ small person.

Lucie ran on, and on.

[Illustration]

The path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, and there
were clothes--props cut from bracken stems, with lines of plaited rushes,
and a heap of tiny clothes pins--but no pocket-handkerchiefs!

But there was something else--a door! straight into the hill; and inside
it some one was singing--

"Lily-white and clean, oh!
With little frills between, oh!
Smooth and hot--red rusty spot
Never here be seen, oh!"

[Illustration]

Lucie, knocked--once--twice, and interrupted the song. A little frightened
voice called out "Who's that?"

Lucie opened the door: and what do you think there was inside the hill?--a
nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams--just like any
other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lucie's head nearly
touched it; and the pots and pans were small, and so was everything
there.

[Illustration]

There was a nice hot singey smell; and at the table, with an iron in her
hand stood a very stout short person staring anxiously at Lucie.

Her print gown was tucked up, and she was wearing a large apron over her
striped petticoat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle,
and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle; and underneath her cap--where Lucie