It had all sorts and kinds of 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.