We got all the rabbits out of the hutches and put pink paper tails
on to them, and hunted them with horns made out of The Times. They
got away somehow, and before they were caught next day they had
eaten a good many lettuces and other things. Oswald is very sorry
for this. He rather likes the gardener.

Denny wanted to put paper tails on the guinea-pigs, and it was no
use our telling him there was nothing to tie the paper on to. He
thought we were kidding until we showed him, and then he said,
'Well, never mind', and got the girls to give him bits of the blue
stuff left over from their dressing-gowns.

'I'll make them sashes to tie round their little middles,' he said.
And he did, and the bows stuck up on the tops of their backs. One
of the guinea-pigs was never seen again, and the same with the
tortoise when we had done his shell with vermilion paint. He
crawled away and returned no more. Perhaps someone collected him
and thought he was an expensive kind unknown in these cold
latitudes.

The lawn under the cedar was transformed into a dream of beauty,
what with the stuffed creatures and the paper-tailed things and the
waterfall. And Alice said--

'I wish the tigers did not look so flat.' For of course with
pillows you can only pretend it is a sleeping tiger getting ready
to make a spring out at you. It is difficult to prop up
tiger-skins in a life-like manner when there are no bones inside
them, only pillows and sofa cushions.