shine streamed through it, and looking down it Sara could see that
it opened into a meadow full of daffodils and buttercups and
black-eyed Susans. There seemed to be children playing in it, and a
few lambs; and down the path toward it waddled a long line of snowy
geese. Altogether, it seemed to Sara she had never beheld so peaceful
and ravishing a scene.

"This way out," said the First Gunkus, touching Sara's arm, and
pointing up to a signpost, marked "Exit," beside the path. Drops of
water, like tears, dripped continually from this sign; but the
sunshine falling upon them from beyond the valley made them look like
jewels.

The Teacup had told Sara that the Smiles lived in a peaceful village
just beyond the valley; so she knew that the children playing among
the flowers were their children. She would have been glad to stop and
join in the gay, fairy-like games the little Smiles were playing; but
she could see that the Teacup was getting a little nervous, and
anxious to be back in the Garden. And, since the kind little Teacup
had broken into her regular habits, and braved so many dangers and
discomforts just to keep her company through the dismal Vale, she felt
that she ought to be very considerate. So she followed her down the
path, which was now turning into a little lane, though she walked
backward part of the way, with her eyes on the children and the lambs.

When she turned around she could see a lovely little old village ahead
of her. It nestled at the foot of a mountain, and it had vine-covered
cottages with thatched roofs, and spreading trees that made a velvety
shade underneath and winked in the sunshine above. The air was full of
the prettiest sounds; and Sara, listening, thought they must come from
the mountain. The mountain itself looked like Fairyland; it was
covered with ferns and blossoming laurel and festoons of jessamine;
and the sounds that seemed forever playing and skipping about from
wall to wall and rock to rock were like the echoes (or was it the
reflection?) of happy bells. Sara thought she ought to know what they
were, but she could not quite make out.

"Why, that's where Laughter lives, my dear," said the Teacup when she
asked her. "That's where your own little Laugh was making off to, the
day you caught him. Listen--there are some as little as he was."

And indeed Sara could distinguish many sorts--small, gurgly
Baby-Laughs, dimpled Little-Girl Laughs, Chuckles like Jimmy's, soft
Laughs