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oneself into any wardrobe．Soon she went further in and found that there was a second row of coats hanging up behind the first one．It was almost quite dark in there and she kept her arms stretched out in front of her so as not to bump her face into the back of the wardrobe．She took a step further in-then two or three steps—always expecting to feel woodwork against the tips of her fingers．But she could not feel it．
“This must be a simply enormous wardrobe ！”thought Lucy， going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her．Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her feet．“I wonder is that more mothballs ？”she thought，stooping down to feel it with her hand.But instead of feeling the hard，smooth wood of the floor of the wardrobe，she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold. “This is very queer，”she said，and went on a step or two further.
Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands was
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