The Tale of Little Pig Robinson - Beatrix Potter [3]
“Wee, wee, wee!” answered Robinson.
“But there is nothing else to be done,” said Aunt Dorcas.
So Robinson was popped into the wash-tub with the last bit of soap. He was scrubbed and dried and polished as bright as a new pin. Then he was dressed in a little blue cotton frock and knickers, and instructed to go shopping to Stymouth with a big market basket.
In the basket were two dozen eggs, a bunch of daffodils, two spring cauliflowers; also Robinson’s dinner of bread-and-jam sandwiches. The eggs and flowers and vegetables he must sell in the market, and bring back various other purchases from shopping.
“Now take care of yourself in Stymouth, Nephew Robinson. Beware of gunpowder, and ships’ cooks, and pantechnicons, and sausages, and shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax. Remember the blue bag, the soap, the darning wool — what was the other thing?” said Aunt Dorcas.
“The darning wool, the soap, the blue bag, the yeast — what was the other thing?” said Aunt Porcas.
“Wee, wee, wee!” answered Robinson.
“The blue bag, the soap, the yeast, the darning wool, the cabbage seed — that’s five, and there ought to be six. It was two more than four because it was two too many to tie knots in the corners of his hankie, to remember by. Six to buy, it should be —”
“I have it!” said Aunt Porcas. “It was tea — tea, blue bag, soap, darning wool, yeast, cabbage seed. You will buy most of them at Mr. Mumby’s. Explain about the carrier, Robinson; tell him we will bring the washing and some more vegetables next week.”
“Wee, wee, wee” answered Robinson, setting off with the big basket.
Aunt Dorcas and Aunt Porcas stood in the porch. They watched him safely out of sight, down the field, and through the first of the many stiles. When they went back to their household tasks they were grunty and snappy with each other, because they were uneasy about Robinson.
“I wish we had not let him go. You and your tiresome blue bag!” said Aunt Dorcas.
“Blue bag, indeed! It was your darning wool and eggs!” grumbled Aunt Porcas. “Bother that carrier man and his donkey cart! Why could not he keep out of the ditch until after market day?”
Chapter Three
THE walk to Stymouth was a long one, in spite of going by the fields. But the footpath ran downhill all the way, and Robinson was merry. He sang his little song, for joy of the fine morning, and he chuckled “Wee, wee, wee!” Larks were singing, too, high overhead.
And higher still — high up against blue sky, the great white gulls sailed in wide circles. Their hoarse cries came softened back to earth from a great way up above.
Important rooks and lively jackdaws strutted about the meadows amongst the daisies and buttercups. Lambs skipped and baa’ed; the sheep looked round at Robinson.
“Mind yourself in Stymouth, little pig,” said a motherly ewe.
Robinson trotted on until he was out of breath and very hot. He had crossed five big fields, and ever so many stiles; stiles with steps; ladder stiles; stiles of wooden posts; some of them were very awkward with a heavy basket. The farm of Piggery Porcombe was no longer in sight when he looked back. In the distance before him, beyond the farmlands and cliffs — never any nearer — the dark blue sea rose like a wall.
Robinson sat down to rest beside a hedge in a sheltered sunny spot. Yellow pussy willow catkins were in flower above his head; there were primroses in hundreds on the bank, and a warm smell of moss and grass and steaming moist red earth.
“If I eat my dinner now, I will not have to carry it. Wee, wee, wee!” said Robinson.
The walk had made him so hungry he would have liked to eat an egg as well as the jam sandwiches; but he had been too well brought up.
“It would spoil the two dozen,” said Robinson.
He picked a bunch of primroses and tied them up with a bit of darning wool that Aunt Dorcas had given him for a pattern.
“I will sell them in the market for my very own self, and buy sweeties with my pennies. How many pennies have I got?” said Robinson, feeling in his pocket. “One from Aunt