"You must have your old Bunny!" she said. "Fancy all that fuss for a toy!"  
The Boy sat up in bed and stretched out his hands.
 
"Give me my Bunny!" he said. "You mustn't say that. He isn't a toy. He's REAL!"
 
When the little Rabbit heard that he was happy, for he knew that what the Skin Horse had said was true at last. The nursery magic had happened to him, and he was a toy no longer. He was Real. The Boy himself had said it.
 
That night he was almost too happy to sleep, and so much love stirred in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst. And into his boot-button eyes, that had long ago lost their polish, there came a look of wisdom and beauty, so that even Nana noticed it next morning when she picked him up, and said, "I declare if that old Bunny hasn't got quite a knowing expression!"
 
 
 
That was a wonderful Summer!
 
Near the house where they lived there was a wood, and in the long June evenings the Boy liked to go there after tea to play. He took the Velveteen Rabbit with him, and before he wandered off to pick............