Miss Potter Page #4

Bertram, come along.

Die, you little devil!

Right. Prince Charming himself

couldn't resist

such a bonny, wee girl.

Not when he meets my brother,

Vlad the lmpaler.

- Got you!

- Bedtime my young reprobates.

Now, shall I leave a window

open, or?

No! I don't like fairy beasts.

Well, it is a well-known fact that

fairy beasts never eat a child

when he's tucked up in his own bed.

The fairies have been

in the north country

for hundreds of years,

and have had many adventures.

I told you about you

a changingly child?

No.

Yes, several times.

I want to hear it.

Oh, go ahead, Fiona.

I'll tell myself a story.

Right.

Once upon a time,

there was a king and a queen.

Once upon a time,

there were four little rabbits.

Their names were...

Flopsy, Mopsy...

Cotton-tail and Peter.

'Now, my dears,

said old Mrs Rabbit one morning,

'you may go into the fields

or down the lane,

'but don't go into

Mr McGregor's garden.'

"'Why not, Mother?'

'Because your father had

an accident there.

He was put in a pie

by Mrs McGregor.'

Peter, who was very naughty,

ran straightaway to

Mr McGregor's garden,

and squeezed under the gate.

I like it.

But round the end of

the cucumber frame,

whom should he meet,

but Mr McGregor!

Peter was out of breath and

trembling with fright,

and he had not the least idea

which way to go.

- It's muddy, actually.

- One more, Mr Mortimer.

Lighten it up.

Mr McGregor caught sight of him

at the corner,

but Peter did not care.

He slipped underneath the gate

and was safe at last

in the wood outside.

Not quite. See here?

It's still a bit...

When Peter came home

his mother put him to bed

with a tablespoonful of camomile tea.

But Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-tail

had bread and milk

and blackberries for supper.

This book, it's changed things

for me, Mr Warne.

How so?

For one thing, it's given me

the chance to prove to my mother

that an unmarried woman of 32 can

do more than attend tea parties

- and smile at dull conversations.

- Yes, indeed.

You know, my family never wanted me

to get into publishing either.

We do make rather a good team,

don't you think?

Provided, of course,

we prove them wrong.

Mother, this is Miss Potter.

At last, we poor forgotten folk

in Bedford Square get to share

some of Norman's excitement.

Mrs Warne, it's so kind of you

to invite me.

Nonsense. It was the desperate

act of a woman who was beginning

to forget what her son looked like.

Mother!

And this is my sister, Amelia.

Hello.

Norman allowed us a peek at

Peter Rabbit, Miss Potter.

We found it utterly charming.

So we wheedled, cajoled,

and absolutely insisted that

Norman bring you round for tea.

I have decided that you and I

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