Sara could see all this through the open door, which was made of an enameled lily-pad (extra-size, like the other things in this luscious place).  But the thing that startled her most, and that you would have found it most difficult to imagine, was the strange way in which the roof was supported.

A very elegant butterfly, who seemed to be an officer in uniform, was standing on his hind legs at the right of the entrance.  His waist was very slim, his wings were very rich, and he was curling and uncurling his proboscis languidly.  Sara slid off the Gahoppigas and approached as near as she dared.

At that moment a little gong sounded somewhere (like a temple-gong in a Japanese fairy-story) and the Butterfly-Officer straightened up and called out in a sharp, military voice, “Shift Three!”

Instantly the caterpillars that were supporting the roof began wriggling out from under it, and a new relay that appeared as if by magic began taking their places, planting their tails firmly on the floor and adjusting their heads against the ceiling, and pressing upward by making their long bodies very stiff and straight.  Of course they did not all do it at once, or the roof would have floated off into the sky; on the other hand, they relieved each other a few at a time, with admirable precision and with no disorder whatever, as if they had had long drill in this complicated manoeuvre.

The caterpillars who had been relieved seemed to be very much relieved indeed; they stretched out their long, cramped bodies luxuriously, and went lumbering off together by twos and threes, with their hands in their pockets.  Sara started to follow a bristly comma-caterpillar who went off alone, but he was so big that she just couldn’t make up her mind so do it.  She had once fed one for three weeks in a fruit jar, and she knew that kind couldn’t hurt her—­still—­ She felt she was just compelled to talk to somebody; but she believed she would rather try the Butterfly-Officer who was on duty at the entrance.  He looked bored and supercilious, but his wings were beautiful.

She drew near after a while and said, as pleasantly as she could,

“Good-morning!”

“Yes,” said the officer, without looking around.

Sara was a little taken aback, but he looked so conceited, as he stood there coiling and uncoiling his watch-spring tongue, that she suddenly felt herself growing quite provoked.

“That isn’t the right answer,” she said.

The Butterfly-Officer turned his lazy eyes and looked her over for some time without speaking.

“You said it was a good morning, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And I agreed, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” said Sara.

“Well, then,” said the Butterfly-Officer, turning away and beginning to coil and uncoil his spring.

This was not a very promising beginning.  Sara would never learn anything at this rate.  She must be more direct.