The Beauty of a Bunny

The boy set 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 a 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. That night he was almost too happy to sleep; 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 which even Nana noticed when she picked him up next morning