Poppy stared up at the starstruck spear of a Roman soldier, stood like at owl on a starry night. A delightful chandelier chimed like a grandfather clock sticking midnight. Several rich battle axes, ready to gracefully glide through the darkness, perched on the oak desk. On the counter, settled an elegant silver bird, vibrantly spreading its wings. An ancient book, with its words coming to life, leapt from the shelf. Beside the book, an egg settling in vinegar dissolved the calcium off the shelf. But what interested Poppy most of all was a fiery Phoenix. She went to stroke it, but burned her hand as the feathers were scolding hot.