Mr Wonka was saying, ‘No time for any more messing about! We’ll
never get anywhere at the rate we’ve been going!’ And on he rushed,
down the endless pink corridors, with his black top hat perched on the
top of his head and his plum-coloured velvet coat-tails flying out behind
him like a flag in the wind.
They passed a door in the wall. ‘No time to go in!’ shouted Mr Wonka.
‘Press on! Press on!’
They passed another door, then another and another. There were
doors every twenty paces or so along the corridor now, and they all had
something written on them, and strange clanking noises were coming
from behind several of them, and delicious smells came wafting through
the keyholes, and sometimes little jets of coloured steam shot out from
the cracks underneath.
Grandpa Joe and Charlie were half running and half walking to keep
up with Mr Wonka, but they were able to read what it said on quite a
few of the doors as they hurried by. EATABLE MARSHMALLOW
PILLOWS, it said on one.
‘Marshmallow pillows are terrific!’ shouted Mr Wonka as he dashed
by. ‘They’ll be all the rage when I get them into the shops! No time to go
in, though! No time to go in!’
LICKABLE WALLPAPER FOR NURSERIES, it said on the next door.
‘Lovely stuff, lickable wallpaper!’ cried Mr Wonka, rushing past. ‘It