"Don't you be silly; what do you mean, you silly old man?"
"In the sack! one, two, three, four, five, six!" replied Mr. McGregor.
(The youngest Flopsy Bunny got upon the window-sill.)
MRS. McGREGOR took hold of the sack and felt it. She said she could feel six, but they must be OLD rabbits, because they were so hard and all different shapes.
"Not fit to eat; but the skins will do fine to line my old cloak."
"Line your old cloak?" shouted Mr. McGregor—"I shall sell them and buy myself baccy!"
"Rabbit tobacco! I shall skin them and cut off their heads."
MRS. McGREGOR untied the sack and put her hand inside.
When she felt the vegetables she became very very angry. She said that
Mr. McGregor had "done it a purpose."
AND Mr. McGregor was very angry too. One of the rotten marrows came flying through the kitchen window, and hit the youngest Flopsy Bunny.