ts long, rosy plumes, like those of an ostrich, only four times as
long, went waving through the air with an indescribably dreamy grace;
and now Sara could actually see the perfume, which before she had only
smelled. It rained down through the air, as the Plynck circled slowly
round and round the fountain, and looked rather like a sort of golden
spice. And as Sara stood watching, spellbound and sniffing, she knew
she had been mistaken in thinking that, there was no sound at all.
There was just one: a little soft, straining sound the Plynck's
cerulean Echo made as it circled round and round in the pool and tried
to keep up with the Plynck. Her motions would have been exactly as
lovely as those of the Plynck, if they had not been just a trifle
labored, owing to the difficulty of flying under water; and her
breathing was distinctly perceptible. Sara could hear it, too; and it
sounded like the ghost of a dead breeze in a pine-top.

As soon as Sara could take her ravished eyes from the sight, she
looked down to see what was nuzzling about her shoe-buttons; and, just
as she had suspected, it was the Snoodle, frisking and tumbling and
rolling about her feet to make her notice him. And, indeed, when he
was awake, the Snoodle was irresistible. Not that he looked like
anything Sara had ever seen before. He might, perhaps, have looked
like a dog, except that he was so very long--his length, indeed, gave
him a haunting resemblance to a freshly cooked piece of macaroni.
(Sara was later to find out the reason for this; but at the moment she
was puzzled, just as you are when you meet a stranger who looks like
somebody else, and you can't remember who else it is.) And his head,
which was not very clearly defined, was finished off with a neat
little cap that looked like a snail-shell, and seemed to be fastened
to him. His eyes, which stuck out several inches in front of his face
on long prongs, were delightfully mischievous and confiding; and he
was covered with the most beautiful snow-white, curly hair. But he had
one drawback; and Sara discovered that when she started to pick him
up. It was a sort of little window in the exact middle of his back,
with an ising-glass cover, like the slide-cover of some boxes. The
minute you touched him, this little slide drew back, and from within
there escaped an odor of castor oil. It, too, was distinctly
perceptible; Sara could even smell it. As soon as she did so, she
herself drew back, and content