From all the roofs and gables and old wooden houses in Gloucester came a thousand merry voices singing the old Christmas rhymes – all the old songs that ever I heard of, and some that I don’t know, like Whittington’s bells.

I am persuaded that the knots would have proved indigestible, whatever you may urge to the contrary.

For behind the wooden wainscots of all the old houses in Gloucester, there are little mouse staircases and secret trap-doors; and the mice run from house to house through those long narrow passages; they can run all over the town without going into the streets.

At a quarter past four to the minute, there came a most genteel little tap-tappity.

Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed, and made some chamomile tea: “One table-spoonful to be taken at bedtime.

The Tale of Peter Rabbit Table of Contents.

Here comes Peter Cottontail right down the bunny trail...

I fear that we shall be obliged to leave this pudding.

In the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets – when gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta – there lived a tailor in Gloucester.

It sometimes happens that the town child is more alive to the fresh beauty of the country than a child who is country born.