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"Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they
were setting the table for breakfast.
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When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most
disagreeable-looking child ever seen.
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"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled
Jo, lying on the rug.
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Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmond, and Lucy.
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For many days we had been tempest-tossed.
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The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow
with a pond of clear water in it.
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There was a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself - not just sometimes, but always.
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I will begin the story of my adventures with a certain morning
early in the month of June, the year of grace 1751, when I took
the key for the last time out of the door of my father's house.
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Mathias cut a comical figure as he hobbled his way along the cloisters, with his large sandals flip-flopping
and his tail peeping from beneath the baggy folds of an oversized novice's habit.
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"Please, sir, is this Plumfield?" asked a ragged boy of the man who opened
the great gate at which the omnibus left him.
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Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity --- Good.
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These two very old people are the father and mother of Mr. Bucket.
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It was not that Omri didn't appreciate Patrick's birthday present to him.
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He rode into our valley in the summer of '89.
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Once upon a time, in a gloomy castle on a lonely hill, where there were thirteen clocks that wouldn't
go, there lived a cold, aggressive Duke, and his neice, the Princess Saralinda.
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It was an afternoon in late September. In the pleasant city of Stillwater, Mr. Popper,
the house painter, was going home from work.
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I expect I might as well begin by telling you about Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle so that whenever
I mention her name, which I do very often in this book, you will not interrupt and ask,
"Who is Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle?"
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A mouse was looking at Mario.
The mouse's name was Tucker, and he was sitting in the opening of an abandoned drain
pipe in the subway station at Times Square.
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Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick
and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted
and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an
odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was
driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares.
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