But-- 'Excuse me,' it said, ruffling its golden feathers and sneezing softly; 'looking through keyholes always gives me a cold in my golden eyes.' So Cyril looked.
'I see something grey moving,' said he.
'It's a zoological garden of some sort, I bet,' said Robert, when he had taken his turn.

And the soft rustling, bustling, ruffling, scuffling, shuffling, fluffling noise went on inside.
'_I_ can't see anything,' said Anthea, 'my eye tickles so.' Then Jane's turn came, and she put her eye to the keyhole.
'It's a giant kitty-cat,' she said; 'and it's asleep all over the floor.' 'Giant cats are tigers--father said so.' 'No, he didn't.

He said tigers were giant cats.

It's not at all the same thing.' 'It's no use sending the carpet to fetch precious things for you if you're afraid to look at them when they come,' said the Phoenix, sensibly.

And Cyril, being the eldest, said-- 'Come on,' and turned the handle.
The gas had been left full on after tea, and everything in the room could be plainly seen by the ten eyes at the door.