´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 . . .