In Lena's room stood a tall wardrobe. Next to the desk stood a small lamp and a globe. A backpack and a pencil case lay on the carpet. It was evening, lanterns were twinkling outside the window. Lena arranged her crayons by colour on the desk. Suddenly, the lamp whispered: "Please turn me on and I'll help." The pencil case also spoke up: "My zippers are squeezing." The globe moved and giggled: "I know all the ways." Lena opened her eyes very, very wide. "Are you guys talking?" she asked very quietly. "We speak when you listen to us," rang the clock on the wall. A knock came from the drawer, once, then twice. "Hello, this is Drawer Number Three. I've lost my key." "The key is hanging on the fox keyring," squeaked the backpacker. "But the fox disappeared after kindergarten" said Lena sadly. The wardrobe squeaked and shook the door suddenly. "Don't touch the handle, count slowly" whispered the wardrobe. "To how many?" asked Lena more quietly. "Up to three. Very slowly" replied the wardrobe. The knob moved of its own accord and flashed. Lena counted: once. A crackle outside the window. Then: two. Something rustled inside. Three... the wardrobe door began to open.