One of these two was already comfortably settled--shall I tell you who it was now, or shall I keep it for a tit-bit at the end when I have quite finished about the carriage?
Yes, that will be better.

For the funniest things about the carriage have to be told yet.

Up on the box, in the coachman's place, you understand, holding with an air of the utmost importance in one claw a pair of yellow silk reins, his tufted head surmounted by a gold-laced livery hat, which, however, must have had a hole in the middle to let the tuft through, for there it was in all its glory waving over the hat like a dragoon's plume, sat, or stood rather, Houpet; while, standing behind, holding on each with one claw to the back of the carriage, like real footmen, were the two other chickens.

They, too, had gold-laced hats and an air of solemn propriety, not _quite_ so majestic as Houpet's, for in their case the imposing tuft was wanting, but still very fine of its kind.

And who do you think were the horses?
for there were two--or, to speak more correctly, there were no horses at all, but in the place where they should have been were harnessed, tandem-fashion, not abreast, Nibble the guinea-pig and Grignan the tortoise! Nibble next to the carriage, Grignan, of all creatures in the world, as leader.
On sight of them Hugh began to laugh, so that he forgot to look more closely at the person in the carriage, whose face he had not yet seen, as it was turned the other way.