ge and furrow, and with a little bell
at every spoke. Beyond, were beautifully and fantastically shaped
hills, and a lake below with pleasure boats on it. It was all
wonderfully like a pretty china bowl come to life, and Lucy knew
she was in China, even before there came into the room, toddling
upon her poor little, tiny feet, a young lady with a small yellow
face, little slips of eyes sloping upwards from her flat nose, and
black hair combed up very tight from her face and twisted with
flowers and ornaments. She had ever so many robes on, the edge
of one peeping out below the other, and at the top a sort of blue
China-crape tunic, with very wide, loose sleeves dropping an immense
way from her hands. There was no gathering in at the waist, and
it reached to her knees, where a still more splendid white silk,
embroidered, trailed along. She had a big fan in her hand; but
when she saw the visitor she went up to a beautiful little, low
table, with an ivory frill round it, where stood some dainty,
delicate tea-cups and saucers. Into one of these she put a little
ball, about as big as an oak-apple, of tea-leaves; a maid dressed
like herself poured hot water on it, and handed it on a lacquer-work
tray. Lucy took it, said, "Thank you," and then waited.

"Is it not good?" said the little hostess.

"It must be! You are the real tea people," said Lucy: "but I was
waiting for sugar and milk."

"That would spoil it," said the Chinese damsel; "only outer barbarians
would think of such a thing. And, ah! I see you are one! See, Ki-hi,
what monstrous feet!"

"They are not bigger than your maid's," said Lucy rather disgusted.
"Why are yours so small?"

"Because my mother and nurse took care of me when I was a baby, and
bound them up that they might not grow big and ugly like those of
the poor creatures who have to run about for their husbands, feed
silk worms, and tend ducks!"

"But shouldn't you like to walk without almost tumbling down?"
said Lucy.

"No, indeed! Me a daughter of a mandarin of the blue button! You
are a mere barbarian to think a lady ought to want to walk. Do you
not see that I never do anything? Look at my lovely nails."

"I think they are claws," said Lucy; "do you never break them?"

"No; when they are a little longer, I shall wear silver shields for
them as my mother does."

"And do you really never work?"

"I should think not," said the young lady, scornfully fanning herself;
"I leave