beatrix potter the tailor of gloucester book

The tailor worked and worked, and he talked to himself: “No breadth at all, and cut on the cross it is no breadth at all tippets for mice and ribbons for mobs! for mice!” said the Tailor of Gloucester. One bitter cold day near Christmastime the tailor began to make a coat (a coat of cherry-colored corded silk embroidered with pansies and roses) and a cream-colored satin waistcoat for the Mayor of Gloucester.

He cut his coats without waste according to his embroidered cloth, they were very small ends and snippets that lay about upon the table-“Too narrow breadths for nought-except waistcoats for mice,” said the tailor. He sat in the window of a little shop in Westgate Street, cross-legged on a table from morning till dark.Īll day long while the light lasted he sewed and snippetted, piecing out his satin, and pompadour, and lutestring stuffs had strange names, and were very expensive in the days of the Tailor of Gloucester.īut although he sewed fine silk for his neighbors, he himself was very, very poor. In the time of swords and peri wigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets-when gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta-there lived a tailor in Gloucester. “I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors.” -Richard IIIīecause you are fond of fairytales, and have been ill, I have made you a story all for yourself-a new one that nobody has read before.Īnd the queerest thing about it is-that I heard it in Gloucestershire, and that it is true-at least about the tailor, the waistcoat, and the “No more twist!” Christmas.

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Beatrix potter the tailor of gloucester book