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The long grass rustled at her feet as the
White Rabbit hurried by—the frightened Mouse
splashed his way through the neighbouring pool
—she could hear the rattle of the teacups as
the March Hare and his friends shared their
never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the
Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to
execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing
on the Duchess’ knee, while plates and dishes
erashed around it—once more the shriek of the
Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizards slate¬
pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea¬
pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant
sob of the miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half
believed» herself in Wonderland, though she
knew she had but to open them again, and al)
would change to dull reality—the grass would
be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rip¬
_ pling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling
teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells,
and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the