There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; but the other mechanical toys were quite superior and looked down upon him. 'You are only sawdust,' they said. The only person who was kind to him was the Skin Horse. 'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'
For a long time he lived in the toy cupboard or on the nursery floor, and no one thought very much about him. But one evening, when the Boy was going to bed, he couldn't find his china dog, so his Nana put the Rabbit into his arms. That night, and for many nights after, the Velveteen Rabbit slept in the Boy's bed. The Boy hugged him tight and talked to him. The Rabbit was happy, for he knew that he was True at last.
Weeks passed, and the Rabbit grew shabby, but the Boy loved him still. One day, the Boy fell ill, and the doctor said all his old books and toys must be burnt! The Rabbit trembled. But a tear fell from his eye, and a magic Fairy appeared. 'I take care of the playthings that the children have loved,' she said. She kissed him, and he wasn't a toy anymore—he was a real rabbit! He hopped into the forest, watching the Boy play from afar, his heart full of love.
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The End