Children's Storybook, book, kids book, female reader
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Hello, dear boys and girls, mothers, fathers, grandparents, and everyone who loves fairytales about kind animals, friendship and adventure. I also love them very much. And today I will share one of them with you. It will be a story about a beautiful farm in the west of England where green meadows with fragrant herbs and sprawling apple orchards stretch. So get comfortable in your beds. And listen. Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Lucy who lived at a farm called Little Town. She was a good little girl only. She was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs. One day, Little Lucy came into the farmyard crying. Oh, she did cry. So I've lost my pocket hand kin, three hand kins and a penny. Have you seen them? Tabby kitten? The kin went on washing her white paws. So Lucy asked a speckled hen Sally, Henny Penny. Have you found three pocket hand kins? But the speckled, he ran into a barn clucking. I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot. And then Lucy asked **** Robin sitting on a twig. **** Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye and he flew over a style and away Lucy climbed upon the style 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 hillside. She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass. Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her short legs would carry her. She ran along a steep pathway up and up until Littletown was right away, Down below, she could have dropped a pebble down the chimney. Presently, she came to a spring bubbling out from the hillside. Someone 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, they were foots of a very small person. Lucy ran on and on the path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green and they were close props cut from bracken stems with lines of plated brushes 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, someone was singing Lily white and clean. No. What little feels between? No, smooth and hot but rusty spot. Never here be seen. No. Lucy knocked once twice and interrupted the song. A little frightened voice called out. Who's that? Lucy 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 Lucy's head nearly touched it and the pots and pans were small and so was everything there. There was a nice hot Cindy smell and at the table with an iron in her hand stood a very stout short person staring anxiously at Lucy. Her print gown was tucked up and she was wearing a large apron over her striped petty coat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, sniffle and her eyes went twinkle twinkle and underneath her cap where Lucy had yellow curls, that little person had prickles. Who are you said, Lucy? Have you seen my pocket hand Kins? The little person made up Bob Curtsey. Oh, yes. If you please him, my name is Mrs Tiggy Winkle. Oh, yes. If you please him, I'm an excellent clear starter. And she took something out of the clothes basket and spread it on the ironing blanket. What's that thing said, Lucy? That's not my pocket hand kin. Oh, no. If you please him, that's a little skull at waistcoat belonging to **** Robin. And she ironed it and folded it and put it on one side, then she took something else off the clothes horse. That isn't my penny said Lucy. Oh no. If you please him, that's a damnest tablecloth belonging to Jenny Re Look how it stained with current wine. It's very bad to wash. Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle, Mrs Ticky Winkle's nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle and her eyes went twinkle twinkle and she fetched another hot iron from the fire. There's one of my pocket handguns cried Lucy and there's my penny. Mrs Tiggy Winkle ironed it. He goffer it and check out the frills. Oh, that is lovely. Said Lucy. And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves? Oh, that's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henny Penny. Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard. She'll very soon go barefoot. Said Mrs Tiggy Winkle. Why? There's another Hanker sniff. But it isn't mine. It's red. Oh, no. If you please them, that one belongs to old Mrs Rabbit and it did so smell of onions. I've had to wash it separately. I can't get out that smell. There's another one of mine said, Lucy. What are those funny little white things? That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby kitten. I only have to iron them. She washes them herself. There's my last pocket hand kin said, Lucy. And what are you dripping into the basin of starch? Their little Dickie shirtfronts belonging to Tom Titmouse. Most terrible part particular said Mrs Tiggy Winkle. Now I finished my ironing. I'm going to air some clothes. What are those dear, soft fluffy things said, Lucy. Oh, those are wooly coats belonging to the little lamps at skeg, will their jackets take off? Asked, Lucy. Oh, yes. If you please them, look at the sheet mark on the shoulder and here's one marched for Gates Garth and three that come from little town, they're always marked at washing said Mrs Tiggy Winkle. And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes, small brown coats of mice and one velvety black moleskin waistcoat and a red tail coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nuttin and a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit and a petty coat not marked that had gone lost in the washing. And at last, the basket was empty. Then Mrs Tiggy Winkle made tea a cup for herself and a cup for Lucy. They sat before the fire on the bench and looked sideways at one another. Mrs Ticky Winkle's hand holding the teacup was very, very brown and very, very wrinkly with soap suds and all through her gown and her cap, there were hairpins sticking wrong and out. So that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her when they had finished tea. They tied up the clothes and bundles and Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean penny and fastened with a silver safety pin. And then they made up the fire with turf and came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill, then away down the hill, trotted. Lucy and Mrs Ticky Winkle with the bundles of clothes all the way down the path. Little animals came out of the fern to meet them. The very first that they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny. And she gave them their nice clean clothes and all the little animals and birds were so very much Delosh to dear Mrs Tiggy Winkle. So that at the bottom of the hill, when they came to the style, there was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle. Lucy scrambled at the style with a bundle in her hand and then she turned to say good night and to thank the washer woman. But what a very odd thing, Mrs Tiggy Winkle had not waited either for thanks or for the washing bill. She was running, running, running up the hill and where was her Whitefield cap and her shawl and her gown and her petty coat and how small she had grown and how brown and covered with prickles. Why Mrs Ticky Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog. Now some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the style. But then how could she have found three clean pocket hand kins and a penny pinned with a silver safety pin. And besides, I have seen that thorn to the back of the hill called Cat Bells. And besides, I am very well acquainted with dear Miss Tiggy Winkle.