world, and
the fashions of the Wonderlanders were peculiar, and not at all like
anything Miss Muffet had ever seen before. And then how they did act! It
was a great relief to see, after the March Hare and the Cheshire Cat and
the Duchess, who were skipping along in the most extraordinary manner,
Mr. Robinson Crusoe. "He looks so solid and respectable," said Miss
Muffet, "and so English, you know."

"Come to the east window," said the spider.

Miss Muffet went with him and looked out on a great level road
stretching toward the sunrise. Just where it seemed to touch the sky she
could see a grove of palm-trees, and she thought she could see, beyond,
the golden domes and minarets of a city. But she was not quite sure of
this, for it might have been the clouds. A faint perfume as of rare
spices floated to her as the wind sprang up.

"This," said the spider, "is the main caravan road to Bagdad." A golden
dust seemed to rise in the distance among the palms. At last Miss Muffet
could see a caravan.

"Take this glass," said the spider, handing her an opera-glass. Then
Miss Muffet could see very well. There were the Sultan and the Caliph
and the Grand Vizier, and the silk merchants and the calenders, and the
princesses of every degree,--all on camels most wonderful to behold.

[Illustration: "_This is the main caravan road to Bagdad_"]

"Do you see the Forty Thieves?" asked the spider uneasily. "If you do,
we'd better count the spoons."

Then Miss Muffet went to the north window, and such a sight as she saw
there! There was frost on all the roads, and snow on the far mountains,
and the great pine forest on that side came almost to the palace doors.
And such pine-trees as they were! Each one looked like a great Christmas
tree. The woods were full of merry little people, with such frosty
twinkles in their eyes that it did one good to look at them. They talked
Swedish and German and Icelandic and all sorts of queer languages, but
somehow they laughed so naturally, and were so simple and hearty, that
Miss Muffet understood every word. There were hosts of brownies and
elves and fairies, and intelligent white bears, and one or two reformed
wolves, and an old witch who was not nearly so bad as she looked, and
the Marsh King and his daughters, and an old gentleman who looked so
much like Santa Claus that Miss Muffet was sure that he must be his
brother. Indeed, she could not help noticing that a great many of these
North Country