but all within was dim and unsubstantial. The birds sang their blank melody outside.
‘I see a ring,’ said Bernard, ‘hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.’
‘I see a slab of pale yellow,’ said Susan, ‘spreading away until it meets a purple stripe.’
‘I hear a sound,’ said Rhoda, ‘cheep, chirp; cheep chirp; going up and down.’
‘I see a globe,’ said Neville, ‘hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill.’
‘I see a crimson tassel,’ said Jinny, ‘twisted with gold threads.’
‘I hear something stamping,’ said Louis. ‘A great beast’s foot is chained. It stamps, and stamps, and stamps.’
‘Look at the spider’s web on the corner of the balcony,’ said Bernard. ‘It has beads of water on it, drops of white light.’
‘The leaves are gathered round the window like pointed ears,’ said Susan.
‘A shadow falls on the path,’ said Louis, ‘like an elbow bent.’
‘Islands of light are swimming on the grass,’ said Rhoda. ‘They have fallen through the trees.’
‘The birds’ eyes are bright in the tunnels between the leaves,’ said Neville.
‘The stalks are covered with harsh, short hairs,’ said Jinny, ‘and drops of water have stuck to them.’
‘A caterpillar is curled in a green ring,’ said Susan, ‘notched with blunt feet.’
