so she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality -- the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds -- the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy -- and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change -lrb- she knew -rrb- to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard -- while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the mock turtle's heavy sobs.