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“Come, Peter, come; collect yourself,” said his mother, who was standing by the bed where poor Peter was sitting straight up with an anxious face, down which big tears were running.

“You’re here, Peter, you know; in your own little bed,” said his mother, putting her arms round him.

Peter began to take heart a little, and looked round him with big wide-open eyes.

“But how did I get here?” he asked, still stupefied with sleep.

“You’ve never been anywhere else, you know,” said his mother.

“But I know the Parsnip-man took me away, and I rode on the mouse, too,” said little Peter.

“Nonsense, nonsense; you’re still dreaming. There, get up and put on your clothes.”

“But I want the other clothes, the beautiful blue dress. These things are so dreadfully patched and darned,” said Peter, in a lamentable tone. “And I have brought something nice for you too, Mother dear. It’s in the pockets of the blue coat.”

“You haven’t got a blue coat, child,” said his mother. “Come, come. Put on your clothes and come into the warm kitchen.” And she carried Peter out into the arm-chair by the breakfast-table, and began to pour out some coffee for him. And she put the Parsnip-man (who had been lying all night behind the stove) into his hand. “See,” she continued, “here’s your Parsnip-man, about whom you have been dreaming all this fine nonsense.”

Peter examined it with eager eyes. It looked exactly the same as it had done the night before.

“But Mary was there too,” he said, still doubtfully. “She is the Queen of the Parsnip-men, you know. And she gave me cake and wine and fruit.”

“Well, we’ll ask her about it next time she comes,” said his mother, laughing.

Just then there was a knock at the door. The mother hastened to open it, and found a messenger waiting with a letter in his hand which had several seals on it. It was addressed to herself, and beside the address was written, “Three pounds enclosed.” Having given a small sum to the messenger for his trouble, the widow broke the seals of the letter with trembling fingers. The three pounds were duly enclosed, but no letter accompanied the welcome money.

Overcome with joy, the widow seized Peter, who had crept curiously to her side, in her arms and exclaimed with delight, “Ah! you shall have a nice blue dress, after all, my child.”

But when the boy asked, “Who has sent us all this money, Mother?” all she could say was, “I wish I knew, my dear. But you see there is no letter with it.”

Then Peter smiled expressively, but said nothing, for he thought–“Mother won’t believe me, I know. But who can the money have come from, except from the little Parsnip-man?”