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‘I wish I could get through into looking-glass house,’ Alice said. ‘Let’s pretend that the glass has gone soft and . . . Why, I do believe it has! It’s turning into a kind of cloud!’ A moment later Alice is inside the looking-glass world. There she finds herself part of a great game of chess, travelling through forests and jumping across brooks. The chess pieces talk and argue with her, give orders and repeat poems . . . It is the strangest dream that anyone ever had . . .