Once upon a time, there were four little rabbits named Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. They lived with their mother in a cozy burrow beneath the roots of a big fir tree.
One sunny morning, Mrs. Rabbit gathered her children close. "My dears," she said gently, "you may go into the fields or down the lane to play. But please, do not go into Mr. McGregor's garden. Your father went there once, and he never came home. Mrs. McGregor caught him."
She straightened Peter's little blue jacket with its shiny brass buttons. "Now run along and be good. I'm going to the baker's."
Mrs. Rabbit took her basket and umbrella and set off through the wood. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns for supper.
Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail were very good little rabbits. They hopped down the lane together to gather sweet blackberries.
But Peter was feeling naughty. The moment his mother left, he ran straight toward Mr. McGregor's garden. He squeezed underneath the gate and slipped inside.
Oh, what a garden it was! Peter nibbled some crisp lettuces. Then he ate some French beans. Then he chomped on radishes until his tummy began to ache.
Feeling rather sick, Peter decided to look for parsley to settle his stomach. But as he hopped around the end of a cucumber frame, he came nose-to-nose with Mr. McGregor!
Mr. McGregor had been on his hands and knees planting young cabbages. When he saw Peter, he jumped up and ran after him, waving a rake in the air. "Stop, thief!" he shouted.
Peter was terribly frightened. He raced all over the garden, his heart thumping. He had forgotten which way led back to the gate!
As he darted through the cabbage patch, one of his little shoes came off. Then, racing past the potatoes, he lost his other shoe too.
Running on all four paws now, Peter went much faster. He might have escaped completely—except he ran straight into a gooseberry net and got tangled up by the big brass buttons on his jacket.
Peter felt he was truly trapped. Big tears rolled down his whiskers. But some friendly sparrows heard his frightened sobs. They flew down, chirping and fluttering around him. "Don't give up!" they called. "Try again! You can do it!"
Peter wriggled and twisted with all his might. Just as Mr. McGregor arrived with a big sieve to catch him, Peter slipped free—leaving his beautiful blue jacket caught in the net.
He dashed into the tool shed and jumped into a watering can to hide. It would have been a perfect hiding spot, except it was half full of cold water.
Mr. McGregor was certain Peter was somewhere in the shed. He began turning over flower pots one by one, searching carefully underneath each.
Peter tried to stay very still. But the cold water made his nose tickle. Suddenly—"Kertyschoo!" He sneezed.
Mr. McGregor spun around and lunged toward the sound. Peter leaped out of the can and jumped right through the open window, knocking over three plant pots as he went.
The window was too small for Mr. McGregor to follow. Tired of chasing the little rabbit, he gave up and went back to his planting.
Peter sat down on the other side of the window, panting and trembling. He had no idea which way to go. He was damp and cold from the watering can, and very, very tired.
After catching his breath, he began to wander slowly—lippity, lippity, not very fast—looking all around for the gate.
He found a door in a stone wall, but it was locked tight. There was no room for even a small rabbit to squeeze underneath.
An old mouse was running back and forth across the doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her, "Please, which way to the gate?" But the mouse had such a large pea in her mouth that she couldn't answer. She only shook her head and hurried on.
Peter's eyes filled with tears again.
He tried to go straight across the garden, but the paths twisted and turned. He became more and more confused.
Then he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his watering cans. A white cat sat perfectly still at the edge, staring at the goldfish in the water. Only the tip of her tail twitched now and then.
Peter remembered what his cousin Benjamin Bunny had told him about cats. He decided it was best to go away without saying a word.
He turned back toward the tool shed. Suddenly, very close by, he heard a scraping sound—scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch, scritch. It was the sound of a hoe!
Peter dove under the bushes and stayed very still.
When nothing happened, he crept out carefully and climbed onto a wheelbarrow to peek over the leaves.
There was Mr. McGregor, hoeing onions with his back turned. And just beyond him—there was the gate!
Peter's heart leaped. He climbed down from the wheelbarrow as quietly as he could. Then he ran as fast as his paws would carry him along a straight path behind the blackcurrant bushes.
Mr. McGregor spotted him at the corner, but Peter didn't stop. He was too close now! He slipped underneath the gate and tumbled safely into the wood outside the garden.
Behind him, Mr. McGregor picked up the little blue jacket and the two small shoes. He hung them on a stick in his garden to scare away the blackbirds.
Peter didn't stop running until he reached home. He was so tired that he flopped down on the soft sandy floor of the burrow and closed his eyes.
His mother was busy cooking supper. She looked at Peter and wondered what had happened to his clothes. That was the second jacket and pair of shoes Peter had lost in two weeks!
Peter wasn't feeling very well that evening. His mother tucked him into bed and made him a cup of camomile tea to soothe his poor tummy. She gave him one spoonful at bedtime.
Meanwhile, Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail—who had been very good—sat down to a lovely supper of bread and milk and sweet blackberries.