things in the window--concertinas, and silk handkerchiefs, china
vases and tea-cups, blue Japanese jars, pipes, swords, pistols,
lace collars, silver spoons tied up in half-dozens, and
wedding-rings in a red lacquered basin. There were officers'
epaulets and doctors' lancets. There were tea-caddies inlaid
with red turtle-shell and brass curly-wurlies, plates of
different kinds of money, and stacks of different kinds of
plates. There was a beautiful picture of a little girl washing a
dog, which Jane liked very much. And in the middle of the window
there was a dirty silver tray full of mother-of-pearl card
counters, old seals, paste buckles, snuff-boxes, and all sorts of
little dingy odds and ends.

The Psammead put its head quite out of the fish-basket to look in
the window, when Cyril said--

'There's a tray there with rubbish in it.'

And then its long snail's eyes saw something that made them
stretch out so much that they were as long and thin as new
slate-pencils. Its fur bristled thickly, and its voice was quite
hoarse with excitement as it whispered--

'That's it! That's it! There, under that blue and yellow
buckle, you can see a bit sticking out. It's red. Do you see?'

'Is it that thing something like a horse-shoe?' asked Cyril.
'And red, like the common sealing-wax you do up parcels with?'
'Yes, that's it,' said the Psammead. 'Now, you do just as you
did before. Ask the price of other things. That blue buckle