what I said!" snapped Peter a wee bit crossly, for he saw that
Mrs. Peter didn't believe a word of his story.

"Will you please tell me how any creature in the Green Forest or out
of it, for that matter, can possibly chase any one unless it has legs
or wings, and you didn't say anything about its having wings,"
demanded Mrs. Peter.

Peter scratched his head in great perplexity. Suddenly he had a happy
thought. "Mr. Blacksnake runs fast enough, but he doesn't have legs,
does he?" he asked in triumph.

Little Mrs. Peter looked a bit discomfited. "No-o," she admitted
slowly, "he doesn't have legs; but I never could understand how he
runs without them."

"Well, then," snapped Peter, "if he can run without legs, why can't
other creatures? Besides, this one didn't run exactly; it rolled. Now
I've told you all I'm going to. I need a long nap, after all I've been
through, so don't let any one disturb me."

"I won't," replied Mrs. Peter meekly. "But, Peter, if I were you, I
wouldn't tell that story to any one else."

VI

PETER HAS TO TELL HIS STORY MANY TIMES

Once you start a story you cannot call it back;
It travels on and on and on and ever on, alack!

That is the reason why you should always be sure that a story you
repeat is a good story. Then you will be glad to have it travel on and
on and on, and will never want to call it back. But if you tell a
story that isn't true or nice, the time is almost sure to come when
you will want to call it back and cannot. You see stories are just
like rivers,--they run on and on forever. Little Mrs. Peter Rabbit
knew this, and that is why she advised Peter not to tell any one else
the strange story he had told her of the dreadful creature without
legs or head or tail that had chased him in the Green Forest. Peter
knew by that that she didn't believe a word of it, but he was too
tired and sleepy to argue with her then, so he settled himself
comfortably for a nice long nap.

When Peter awoke, the first thing he thought of was the terrible
creature he had seen in the Green Forest. The more he thought about
it, the more impossible it seemed, and he didn't wonder that Mrs.
Peter had advised him not to repeat it.

"I won't," said Peter to himself. "I won't repeat it to a soul. No one
will believe it. The truth is, I can hardly believe it myself. I'll
just keep my tongue still."

But unfortunately for Peter, one of the Merry Little Breezes of Old
Mother West Win