# Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (A2 edition)

*Lewis Carroll*

## CHAPTER I. Down the Rabbit-Hole

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank. She was also tired of having nothing to do. Once or twice she looked into the book her sister was reading. But it had no pictures or conversations in it.

“And what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations?”

So she thought about making a daisy-chain. The hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid. So she thought as well as she could. Would the pleasure of a daisy-chain be worth the trouble? She would have to get up and pick the daisies. Then suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so *very* strange in that. And Alice did not think it so *very* strange when the Rabbit said to himself, “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!” Later, when she thought about it, she saw that she should have wondered at this. But at the time it all seemed quite natural. But then the Rabbit actually *took a watch out of his waistcoat-pocket*. He looked at it and hurried on. Alice jumped to her feet, because she had a sudden thought. She had never seen a rabbit with a waistcoat-pocket before! And she had never seen a rabbit with a watch to take out of it! She wanted very much to know more, so she ran across the field after him. Luckily, she was just in time. She saw him jump down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment Alice went down after him. She never once thought how she was going to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way. Then it suddenly went down. It went down so suddenly that Alice had no time to think about stopping herself. She was falling down a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly. So she had plenty of time to look about her as she went down. She could also wonder what was going to happen next. First she tried to look down and see where she was going. But it was too dark to see anything. Then she looked at the sides of the well. They were full of cupboards and book-shelves. Here and there she saw maps and pictures on pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed. It had a label: “ORANGE MARMALADE”. But she was very disappointed, because it was empty. She did not want to drop the jar, because it could kill somebody below. So she put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past.

“Well!” thought Alice. “After a fall like this, I will think nothing of falling downstairs! How brave they will all think I am at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it! Not even if I fell off the top of the house!” (This was very likely true: after that, she could not say anything!)

Down, down, down. Would the fall *never* end? “I wonder how many miles I’ve fallen now?” she said aloud. “I must be somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think—” (You see, Alice learnt things like this in her lessons in the schoolroom. This was not a *very* good time to show what she knew. No one was there to listen. But it was still good practice to say it.) “—yes, that’s about the right distance. But then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?” (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either. But she thought they were nice grand words to say.)

Soon she began again. “I wonder if I will fall right *through* the earth! It will be so funny to come out among those people! They walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—” (She was rather glad that no one *was* listening this time. It didn’t sound like the right word at all. The right word was ‘Antipodes’.) “—but I will have to ask them the name of the country, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?” (And she tried to curtsey as she spoke. Imagine *curtseying* when you are falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) “And she’ll think I’m a little girl who knows nothing, because I asked! No, I must never ask. Perhaps I will see it written up somewhere.”

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. “Dinah will miss me very much tonight, I think!” (Dinah was the cat.) “I hope they will remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you could catch a bat. A bat is very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?” Here Alice began to feel rather sleepy. She went on saying to herself, in a dreamy way, “Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?” And sometimes she said, “Do bats eat cats?” You see, she could not answer either question. So it didn’t matter much which way she asked it. She felt that she was falling asleep. She began to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah. She said to her very seriously, “Now, Dinah, tell me the truth. Did you ever eat a bat?” Then suddenly, thump! thump! She came down on a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt. She jumped up on to her feet in a moment. She looked up, but it was all dark overhead. In front of her was another long passage, and she could still see the White Rabbit. He was hurrying down it. There was no time to lose. Alice ran like the wind. She was just in time to hear him as he turned a corner. “Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting!” he said. She was close behind him when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was gone. She was in a long, low hall. A row of lamps hung from the roof and lit it up.

There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked. Alice went all the way down one side and up the other. She tried every door. Then she walked sadly down the middle. She wondered how she was ever going to get out again.

Suddenly she came to a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass. There was nothing on it except a tiny golden key. Perhaps it belonged to one of the doors of the hall, thought Alice. But oh dear! Either the locks were too large, or the key was too small. It did not open any of them. But on the second time round, she came to a low curtain. She had not noticed it before. Behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high. She tried the little golden key in the lock, and she was delighted: it fitted!

Alice opened the door. Behind it was a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole. She knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she wanted to leave that dark hall! How she wanted to walk among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains! But she could not even get her head through the doorway. “And what if my head did go through?” thought poor Alice. “It would be very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.” You see, so many strange things had happened lately. So Alice had begun to think that very few things were really impossible.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door. So she went back to the table. She half hoped to find another key on it. Or perhaps she could find a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes. This time she found a little bottle on it. (“This certainly was not here before,” said Alice.) Round the neck of the bottle was a paper label. It had the words “DRINK ME” on it, in beautiful large printed letters.

It was easy to say “Drink me.” But the wise little Alice was not going to do *that* in a hurry. “No, I’ll look first,” she said, “and see if it says ‘*poison*’ or not.” She said this because she had read several nice little histories about children. Some of these children got burnt. Wild beasts ate up others, and other unpleasant things happened to them too. All this happened because they *would* not remember the simple rules from their friends. One rule was that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long. Another rule was this. If you cut your finger *very* deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds. And she had never forgotten one more rule. Suppose you drink much from a bottle with the word “poison” on it. It will almost certainly make you feel bad, sooner or later.

But this bottle did *not* say “poison,” so Alice decided to taste it. It was very nice. In fact, it had a sort of mixed flavour. It tasted of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee and hot buttered toast. She very soon finished it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“What a curious feeling!” said Alice. “I must be shutting up like a telescope.”

And she was! She was now only ten inches high. She was now the right size for the little door into that lovely garden. Her face became bright at this thought. But first she waited for a few minutes. Was she going to shrink more? She felt a little nervous about this. “Because it could end, you know,” said Alice to herself. “I could go out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I would be like then?” And she tried to imagine the flame of a candle after someone blows it out. This was because she could not remember ever seeing such a thing.

After a while nothing more had happened. So she decided to go into the garden at once. But oh, poor Alice! At the door, she found that she had forgotten the little golden key. She went back to the table for it, but she could not reach it. She could see it quite clearly through the glass. She tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table. But it was too slippery. She tried until she was very tired. Then the poor little thing sat down and cried.

“Come, there’s no use in crying like that!” said Alice to herself, rather sharply. “I advise you to stop this minute!” She usually gave herself very good advice, but she very rarely followed it. Sometimes she spoke to herself so angrily that tears came into her eyes. She remembered one game of croquet. She played it against herself, and she cheated herself. So she tried to box her own ears! This was because this curious child loved to pretend to be two people. “But it’s no use now,” thought poor Alice, “to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make *one* respectable person!”

Soon she saw a little glass box under the table. She opened it and found a very small cake inside. On it were the words “EAT ME”, in beautiful letters of currants. “Well, I’ll eat it,” said Alice. “If it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key. If it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door. So either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!”

She ate a little bit. “Which way? Which way?” she said anxiously to herself. She held her hand on the top of her head. She wanted to feel which way it was growing. She was quite surprised, because she stayed the same size. Of course, this usually happens when you eat cake. But Alice now expected only strange things to happen. So it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the normal way.

So she started work, and very soon finished the cake.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

### Glossary

- **waistcoat-pocket**: a pocket in a waistcoat. A waistcoat is a short piece of clothing with no sleeves, worn over a shirt.
- **hedge**: a line of small trees or bushes around a field.
- **daisy-chain**: a line of small white flowers joined together.
- **Latitude**: lines on maps that show how far north or south a place is.
- **Longitude**: lines on maps that show how far east or west a place is.
- **Antipodes**: places on the other side of the earth.
- **curtsey**: a polite movement by a girl or woman, bending the knees.
- **telescope**: a long tube for seeing far things. It gets shorter when one part slides into another.
- **poker**: a metal stick for moving wood in a fire.
- **going out**: stopping burning, as a candle does.
- **box her own ears**: to hit herself on the ears.
- **respectable**: good and honest, so that people think well of you.
- **currants**: small dried fruits.

## CHAPTER II. The Pool of Tears

“Curiouser and curiouser!” cried Alice. (She was very surprised. So for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English.) “Now I’m opening out like the largest telescope in the world! Good-bye, feet!” (She looked down at her feet, and they seemed to be almost out of sight. They were getting so far away.) “Oh, my poor little feet! I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I’m sure *I* won’t be able to! I will be much too far away to help you. You must do the best you can. But I must be kind to them,” thought Alice. “If I’m not, perhaps they won’t walk the way I want to go! Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.”

And she went on planning how she would do it. “They must go by the carrier,” she thought. “And how funny it will be, to send presents to your own feet! And how strange the address will look!

*Alice’s Right Foot, Esq., Hearthrug, near the Fender,* (*with Alice’s love*).

Oh dear, what nonsense I’m talking!”

Just then her head hit the roof of the hall. She was now more than nine feet high. She at once took the little golden key and hurried to the garden door.

Poor Alice! She lay down on one side. Then she could just look through into the garden with one eye. But to get through was more hopeless than ever. She sat down and began to cry again.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Alice. “A great girl like you!” (She was right to say this!) “You should not go on crying like this! Stop this moment, I tell you!” But she went on crying all the same. Gallons of tears fell from her eyes. Soon there was a large pool all round her. It was about four inches deep, and it reached half way down the hall.

After a time she heard the light sound of little feet far away. She quickly dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit, coming back. He was wearing very fine clothes. He had a pair of white kid gloves in one hand. In the other he had a large fan. He came along in a great hurry, and he talked quietly to himself as he came. “Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!” Alice felt so desperate that she was ready to ask anyone for help. So when the Rabbit came near her, she spoke in a low, shy voice. “If you please, sir—” The Rabbit jumped in fright. He dropped the white kid gloves and the fan. Then he ran away into the darkness as fast as he could.

Alice picked up the fan and gloves. The hall was very hot, so she fanned herself all the time she went on talking. “Dear, dear! How strange everything is today! And yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, *that’s* the great puzzle!” And she began to think about all the children she knew of her age. Perhaps she had been changed into one of them.

“I’m sure I’m not Ada,” she said. “Her hair goes in such long ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all. And I’m sure I can’t be Mabel. I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows so very little! Besides, *she’s* she, and *I’m* I, and—oh dear, how puzzling it all is! I’ll see if I know all the things I used to know. Let me see: four times five is twelve. And four times six is thirteen. And four times seven is—oh dear! I will never get to twenty that way!” (Four times five is really twenty.) “But the Multiplication Table doesn’t matter. Let’s try Geography. London is the capital of Paris. And Paris is the capital of Rome. And Rome—no, *that’s* all wrong, I’m sure! I must have been changed into Mabel! I’ll try and say ‘*How doth the little*—’” And she crossed her hands on her lap, as if she was saying lessons. She began. But her voice sounded rough and strange. And the words did not come the same as before:—

> “How doth the little crocodile  
> Improve his shining tail,  
> And pour the waters of the Nile  
> On every golden scale!
>
> “How happily he seems to grin,  
> How neatly he spreads his claws,  
> And welcomes little fishes in  
> With gently smiling jaws!”

“I’m sure those are not the right words,” said poor Alice. (In the real poem, it was a busy bee.) Her eyes filled with tears again as she went on. “I must be Mabel after all. I will have to go and live in that poky little house. I will have almost no toys to play with, and oh! so many lessons to learn! No, I’ve decided. If I’m Mabel, I’ll stay down here! They can put their heads down and say ‘Come up again, dear!’ But it will be no use. I will only look up and say ‘Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I’ll come up. If not, I’ll stay down here till I’m somebody else’—but, oh dear!” cried Alice, and suddenly she was crying hard. “I do wish they *would* put their heads down! I am so *very* tired of being all alone here!”

As she said this, she looked down at her hands. She was surprised. One of the Rabbit’s little white kid gloves was on her hand. She had put it on while she was talking. “How *can* I have done that?” she thought. “I must be growing small again.” She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it. As nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet high. And she was still shrinking fast. She soon found the cause of this: it was the fan in her hand. She dropped it quickly, and she was just in time. She did not shrink away altogether.

“That *was* a narrow escape!” said Alice. The sudden change frightened her a lot. But she was very glad that she still existed. “And now for the garden!” She ran as fast as she could back to the little door. But oh dear! The little door was shut again. And the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before. “And things are worse than ever,” thought the poor child. “That’s because I was never as small as this before, never! And I say it’s too bad, it is!”

As she said these words her foot slipped. A moment later, splash! She was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea. “And then I can go back by railway,” she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in her life. She had decided that the English coast was the same everywhere. Wherever you go, you find some bathing machines in the sea. You find some children digging in the sand with wooden spades. Then there is a row of lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) But she soon saw that she was in the pool of tears. She had cried these tears when she was nine feet high.

“I wish I hadn’t cried so much!” said Alice. She swam about and tried to find her way out. “I will get my punishment for it now, I suppose. I will drown in my own tears! That *will* be a strange thing, to be sure! But everything is strange today.”

Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off. She swam nearer to see what it was. At first she thought it must be a walrus or a hippopotamus. But then she remembered how small she was now. She soon saw that it was only a mouse. He had slipped in, like her.

“Would it be any use,” thought Alice, “to speak to this mouse? Everything is so strange down here, so very likely he can talk. Anyway, there’s no harm in trying.” So she began: “O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Mouse!” (Alice thought this must be the right way to speak to a mouse. She had never done such a thing before. But she remembered something in her brother’s Latin Grammar: “A mouse—of a mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!”) The Mouse looked at her with some interest. He seemed to wink with one of his little eyes. But he said nothing.

“Perhaps he doesn’t understand English,” thought Alice. “I think he’s a French mouse, and he came over with William the Conqueror.” (Alice knew a lot of history. But she had no very clear idea how long ago anything happened.) So she began again: “Où est ma chatte?” (This means ‘Where is my cat?’) This was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden jump out of the water. He seemed to shake all over with fright. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” cried Alice quickly. She was afraid that she had hurt the poor animal’s feelings. “I quite forgot you didn’t like cats.”

“Not like cats!” cried the Mouse in a high, angry voice. “Would *you* like cats if you were me?”

“Well, perhaps not,” said Alice gently. “Don’t be angry about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah. I think you would like cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet thing,” Alice went on, half to herself. She swam lazily about in the pool. “She sits purring so nicely by the fire. And she licks her paws and washes her face. And she is such a nice soft thing to nurse. And she’s so good at catching mice—oh, I beg your pardon!” cried Alice again, because this time all the Mouse’s fur was standing up. She felt sure that he was really offended. “We won’t talk about her any more, if you don’t want to.”

“We indeed!” cried the Mouse. He was trembling down to the end of his tail. “As if *I* would talk about such a thing! Our family always *hated* cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the name again!”

“I won’t indeed!” said Alice. She was in a great hurry to change the subject. “Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?” The Mouse did not answer, so Alice went on eagerly. “There is such a nice little dog near our house! I would like to show it to you! It’s a little bright-eyed terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it will fetch things when you throw them. And it will sit up and beg for its dinner. It does all sorts of things—I can’t remember half of them. And it belongs to a farmer, you know. He says it’s so useful, it’s worth a hundred pounds! He says it kills all the rats and—oh dear!” cried Alice sadly. “I’m afraid I’ve offended him again!” The Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as he could. He was making a lot of noise and movement in the pool.

So she called softly after him, “Mouse dear! Do come back again! We won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!” When the Mouse heard this, he turned round and swam slowly back to her. His face was quite pale. (Alice thought this was because he was angry.) He spoke in a low, trembling voice. “Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my history. Then you’ll understand why I hate cats and dogs.”

It was time to go, because the pool was getting quite crowded. Birds and animals had fallen into it. There were a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet. There were also several other curious creatures. Alice went first, and the whole party swam to the shore.

### Glossary

- **carrier**: a person who took parcels from place to place by cart.
- **Esq.**: a polite old word written after a man’s name.
- **Hearthrug**: a rug in front of a fire.
- **Fender**: a low metal wall in front of a fire.
- **kid gloves**: gloves made of soft leather.
- **savage**: very angry, wild or cruel.
- **ringlets**: long curls of hair.
- **doth**: an old word for “does”.
- **poky**: small and not nice to live in.
- **narrow escape**: when you only just get away from danger.
- **bathing machines**: small huts on wheels, used long ago for going into the sea.
- **lodging houses**: houses with rooms for visitors.
- **walrus**: a large sea animal with long teeth.
- **vulgar**: not polite; not nice.
- **party**: a group of people or animals.

## CHAPTER III. A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale

They were a strange-looking party on the bank. The birds had wet, dirty feathers. The animals had fur that stuck close to them. They were all dripping wet, cross and uncomfortable.

The first question, of course, was how to get dry again. They talked about it together. After a few minutes it seemed quite natural to Alice to talk with them. She felt as if she had known them all her life. In fact, she had quite a long argument with the Lory. In the end the Lory became sulky. It would only say, “I am older than you, and must know better.” Alice would not accept this without knowing how old it was. But the Lory refused to tell its age, so there was no more to say.

At last the Mouse spoke. He seemed to be an important person among them. “Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! *I’ll* soon make you dry enough!” They all sat down at once in a large ring. The Mouse sat in the middle. Alice watched him anxiously, because she felt sure of one thing. She would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon.

“Ahem!” said the Mouse, and he looked very important. “Are you all ready? This is the driest thing I know.” (‘Dry’ can also mean ‘boring’.) “Silence all round, if you please! ‘William the Conqueror had the pope on his side. The English soon accepted him. They needed leaders, and lately other men had often taken power by force. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria—’”

“Ugh!” said the Lory, and it shivered.

“I beg your pardon!” said the Mouse. He was frowning, but he spoke very politely. “Did you speak?”

“Not I!” said the Lory quickly.

“I thought you did,” said the Mouse. “—I proceed. ‘Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, said they were on his side. And even Stigand, the archbishop of Canterbury, who loved his country, found it wise—’”

“Found *what*?” said the Duck.

“Found *it*,” the Mouse replied rather crossly. “Of course you know what ‘it’ means.”

“I know what ‘it’ means well enough, when *I* find a thing,” said the Duck. “It’s usually a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the archbishop find?”

The Mouse did not notice this question. He quickly went on. “‘—found it wise to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the crown. At first William behaved well. But his Normans were so rude—’ How are you getting on now, my dear?” he said, and he turned to Alice.

“As wet as ever,” said Alice sadly. “It doesn’t seem to dry me at all.”

“In that case,” said the Dodo solemnly, and he stood up, “I move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies—”

“Speak English!” said the Eaglet. “I don’t know the meaning of half those long words. And, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!” (The Dodo only meant: let’s stop and find a better way.) And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile. Some of the other birds laughed quietly.

“What I was going to say,” said the Dodo, and he sounded offended, “was this. The best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.”

“What *is* a Caucus-race?” said Alice. She did not really want to know. But the Dodo had stopped, as if he thought that *somebody* ought to speak. And no one else seemed to want to say anything.

“Why,” said the Dodo, “the best way to explain it is to do it.” (You might like to try it yourself, some winter day. So I will tell you how the Dodo did it.)

First he marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle. (“The exact shape doesn’t matter,” he said.) Then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no “One, two, three, and away.” They began running when they liked, and they stopped when they liked. So it was not easy to know when the race was over. They ran for half an hour or so, and then they were quite dry again. Suddenly the Dodo called out, “The race is over!” They all crowded round him and panted, and they asked, “But who has won?”

The Dodo could not answer this question without a lot of thought. He sat for a long time with one finger on his forehead. (You usually see Shakespeare like this in pictures of him.) The rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, “*Everybody* has won, and all must have prizes.”

“But who is to give the prizes?” asked many voices together.

“Why, *she*, of course,” said the Dodo, and he pointed to Alice with one finger. The whole party at once crowded round her. They all called out in a confused way, “Prizes! Prizes!”

Alice had no idea what to do. In despair she put her hand in her pocket. She pulled out a box of comfits. (Luckily the salt water had not got into it.) She handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one each, all round.

“But she must have a prize herself, you know,” said the Mouse.

“Of course,” the Dodo replied very seriously. “What else have you got in your pocket?” he went on, and he turned to Alice.

“Only a thimble,” said Alice sadly.

“Hand it over here,” said the Dodo.

Then they all crowded round her once more. The Dodo solemnly gave her the thimble. He said, “We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble.” When he finished this short speech, they all cheered.

Alice thought the whole thing was very silly. But they all looked so serious that she did not dare to laugh. She could not think of anything to say. So she simply bowed and took the thimble. She looked as solemn as she could.

The next thing was to eat the comfits. This caused some noise and confusion. The large birds complained that they could not taste theirs. The small birds choked, and the others had to pat them on the back. But at last it was over. They sat down again in a ring. They begged the Mouse to tell them something more.

“You promised to tell me your history, you know,” said Alice. “And why you hate—C and D,” she added in a whisper. She was half afraid that he would be offended again.

“Mine is a long and a sad tale!” said the Mouse. He turned to Alice and sighed.

“It *is* a long tail, certainly,” said Alice. She looked down in wonder at the Mouse’s tail. “But why do you call it sad?” (‘Tale’ and ‘tail’ sound the same. The Mouse meant his story.) And she went on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking. So her idea of the tale was something like this:—

> “Fury said to a mouse,  
> That he met in the house,  
> ‘Let us both go to law:  
> *I* will take *you* to court.—  
> Come, I won’t take no for an answer;  
> We must have a trial:  
> For really this morning  
> I’ve nothing to do.’  
> Said the mouse to the dog,  
> ‘Such a trial, dear sir,  
> With no jury or judge,  
> Would be a waste of breath.’  
> ‘I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury,’  
> Said clever old Fury:  
> ‘I’ll hear it all,  
> And condemn you to death.’”

“You are not listening!” said the Mouse to Alice angrily. “What are you thinking of?”

“I beg your pardon,” said Alice very humbly. “You had got to the fifth bend, I think?” (Alice was still thinking about the Mouse’s long tail.)

“I had *not!*” cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.

“A knot!” said Alice. She always wanted to be useful, and she looked anxiously about her. “Oh, do let me help to undo it!” (‘Not’ and ‘knot’ sound the same. A knot is a tie in string.)

“I shall do nothing of the sort,” said the Mouse. He got up and walked away. “You insult me by talking such nonsense!”

“I didn’t mean it!” said poor Alice. “But you’re so easily offended, you know!”

The Mouse only growled.

“Please come back and finish your story!” Alice called after him. And the others all joined in, “Yes, please do!” But the Mouse only shook his head impatiently and walked a little quicker.

As soon as the Mouse was quite out of sight, the Lory sighed. “What a pity he wouldn’t stay!” it said.

An old Crab took this chance to speak to her daughter. “Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose *your* temper!”

“Hold your tongue, Ma!” said the young Crab, a little crossly. “You’re enough to try the patience of an oyster!”

“I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!” said Alice aloud, to nobody. “She’d soon fetch him back!”

“And who is Dinah, if I may ask?” said the Lory.

Alice replied eagerly, because she was always ready to talk about her pet. “Dinah’s our cat. And she’s so good at catching mice, you can’t imagine! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, she’ll eat a little bird the moment she sees it!”

These words had a great effect on the party. Some of the birds hurried off at once. One old Magpie began to wrap itself up very carefully. “I really must be getting home,” it said. “The night-air doesn’t suit my throat!” And a Canary called to its children in a trembling voice, “Come away, my dears! It’s high time you were all in bed!” They all gave different reasons, and they all went away. Soon Alice was alone.

“I wish I hadn’t mentioned Dinah!” she said sadly to herself. “Nobody seems to like her, down here. And I’m sure she’s the best cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I will ever see you again!” And here poor Alice began to cry again, because she felt very lonely and sad. But after a little while she again heard the light sound of feet far away. She looked up eagerly. She half hoped that the Mouse had changed his mind. Perhaps he was coming back to finish his story.

### Glossary

- **Caucus-race**: a silly race in a circle. Nobody wins by being fast.
- **tale**: a story.
- **party**: a group of people or animals.
- **sulky**: unhappy and cross, and not speaking.
- **earls**: important English lords.
- **archbishop**: a very important priest.
- **comfits**: small sweets.
- **thimble**: a small cover for your finger when you sew.
- **go to law**: to ask a court to decide an argument.
- **jury**: the people who decide in a court.
- **condemn**: to say that someone must have a punishment.
- **oyster**: a sea animal in a shell. It does not move.
- **try the patience of**: to make someone angry. To make an oyster angry, you must be very annoying.
- **high time**: the time when something must happen, or even later.

## CHAPTER IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill

It was the White Rabbit. He was trotting slowly back. He looked anxiously about him, as if he had lost something. She heard him talking quietly to himself. “The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where *can* I have dropped them, I wonder?” Alice guessed at once what he wanted. He was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves. She very kindly began to look for them. But she could not see them anywhere. Everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool. The great hall, with the glass table and the little door, was gone completely.

Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she looked about for them. He called out to her angrily, “Why, Mary Ann, what *are* you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!” Alice was so frightened that she ran off at once. She ran in the direction he pointed. She did not try to explain his mistake.

“He thought I was his housemaid,” she said to herself as she ran. “How surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take him his fan and gloves. That is, if I can find them.” As she said this, she came to a neat little house. On the door was a bright brass plate. It had the name “W. RABBIT” on it. She went in without knocking and hurried upstairs. She was very afraid of meeting the real Mary Ann. Mary Ann could send her out before she found the fan and gloves.

“How strange it is,” Alice said to herself, “to go on messages for a rabbit! I suppose Dinah will send me on messages next!” And she began to imagine what would happen. “‘Miss Alice! Come here at once, and get ready for your walk!’ ‘Coming in a minute, nurse! But I’ve got to see that the mouse doesn’t get out.’ But,” Alice went on, “I don’t think they would let Dinah stay in the house. Not if she began ordering people about like that!”

By this time she was in a tidy little room. There was a table in the window. As she had hoped, there was a fan on the table. There were also two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves. She took the fan and a pair of the gloves. She was just going to leave the room. Then she saw a little bottle near the looking-glass. This time there was no label with the words “DRINK ME.” But she took out the cork and put the bottle to her lips. “I know *something* interesting is sure to happen,” she said to herself. “It happens whenever I eat or drink anything. So I’ll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it will make me grow large again. I’m really quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!”

And it did, and much sooner than she expected. Before she had drunk half the bottle, her head was pressing against the ceiling. She had to bend down so that her neck did not break. She quickly put down the bottle and said to herself, “That’s quite enough. I hope I won’t grow any more. As it is, I can’t get out at the door. I do wish I hadn’t drunk quite so much!”

Oh dear! It was too late to wish that! She went on growing and growing. Very soon she had to kneel down on the floor. A minute later there was not even room for this. So she tried lying down. She put one elbow against the door and the other arm round her head. Still she went on growing. As a last try, she put one arm out of the window. She put one foot up the chimney. “Now I can do no more, whatever happens,” she said to herself. “What *will* happen to me?”

Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect. She grew no larger. But she was still very uncomfortable. There seemed to be no chance of ever getting out of the room again. So of course she felt unhappy.

“It was much nicer at home,” thought poor Alice. “There I wasn’t always growing larger and smaller. And mice and rabbits didn’t order me about. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole. And yet—and yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what *can* have happened to me! When I read fairy-tales, I thought that kind of thing never happened. And now here I am in the middle of one! Somebody ought to write a book about me, they ought! When I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,” she added sadly. “At least there’s no room to grow up any more *here*.” (She meant she had no room to grow taller.)

“But then,” thought Alice, “will I *never* get any older than I am now? That will be a good thing in one way. I will never be an old woman. But then—I will always have lessons to learn! Oh, I wouldn’t like *that!*”

“Oh, you foolish Alice!” she answered herself. “How can you learn lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for *you*, and no room at all for any lesson-books!”

And so she went on. She took first one side and then the other. She made quite a conversation of it. But after a few minutes she heard a voice outside. She stopped to listen.

“Mary Ann! Mary Ann!” said the voice. “Fetch me my gloves this moment!” Then came the light sound of little feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was the Rabbit, coming to look for her. She trembled until she shook the house. She quite forgot how large she was now. She was about a thousand times as large as the Rabbit. She had no reason to be afraid of him.

Soon the Rabbit came up to the door and tried to open it. But the door opened inwards. Alice’s elbow was pressing hard against it. So he could not open it. Alice heard him. “Then I’ll go round and get in at the window,” he said to himself.

“*That* you won’t!” thought Alice. She waited until she thought the Rabbit was just under the window. Then she suddenly spread out her hand. She tried to catch something in the air. She did not catch anything. But she heard a little scream and a fall, and a crash of broken glass. So she thought that perhaps he had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something like that.

Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s. “Pat! Pat! Where are you?” And then she heard a voice that was new to her. “Sure then I’m here! Digging for apples, yer honour!”

“Digging for apples, indeed!” said the Rabbit angrily. “Here! Come and help me out of *this!*” (There were sounds of more broken glass.)

“Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?”

“Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!” (He said it ‘arrum’.)

“An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole window!”

“Sure, it does, yer honour. But it’s still an arm.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be there, at any rate! Go and take it away!”

There was a long silence after this. Alice could only hear whispers now and then. She heard, “Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour, at all, at all!” Then she heard, “Do as I tell you, you coward!” At last she spread out her hand again. Again she tried to catch something in the air. This time there were *two* little screams, and more sounds of broken glass. “What a lot of cucumber-frames there must be!” thought Alice. “I wonder what they’ll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they *could!* I’m sure *I* don’t want to stay in here any longer!”

She waited for some time and heard nothing more. At last there was a low noise of little cartwheels. Then came the sound of many voices all talking together. She made out these words: “Where’s the other ladder?—I only had to bring one; Bill’s got the other—Bill! fetch it here, lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner!—No, tie ’em together first—they don’t reach half high enough yet—Oh! they’ll do well enough; don’t be so careful—Here, Bill! catch hold of this rope—Will the roof hold?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s coming down! Heads below!” (a loud crash)—“Now, who did that?—It was Bill, I think—Who’s to go down the chimney?—Nay, *I* shan’t! *You* do it!—*That* I won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, Bill! the master says you’re to go down the chimney!”

“Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?” said Alice to herself. “Why, they seem to put everything on Bill! I wouldn’t want to be in Bill’s place! This fireplace is narrow, to be sure, but I *think* I can kick a little!”

She moved her foot as far down the chimney as she could. Then she waited until she heard a little animal. (She couldn’t guess what sort of animal it was.) It was scratching and climbing about, close above her in the chimney. “This is Bill,” she said to herself. She gave one sharp kick. Then she waited to see what would happen next.

The first thing she heard was many voices together: “There goes Bill!” Then she heard the Rabbit’s voice alone: “Catch him, you by the hedge!” Then there was silence. Then came more confused voices. “Hold up his head—Brandy now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell us all about it!”

Last came a little weak, squeaking voice. (“That’s Bill,” thought Alice.) “Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now. But I’m much too upset to tell you. All I know is, something comes at me like a Jack-in-the-box. And up I goes like a sky-rocket!”

“So you did, old fellow!” said the others.

“We must burn the house down!” said the Rabbit’s voice. Alice called out as loud as she could. “If you do, I’ll set Dinah at you!”

At once there was a dead silence. Alice thought, “I wonder what they *will* do next! If they had any sense, they would take the roof off.” After a minute or two, they began moving about again. Alice heard the Rabbit say, “A barrowful will do, to begin with.”

“A barrowful of *what?*” thought Alice. She soon knew. The next moment a shower of little pebbles came in at the window. Some of them hit her in the face. “I’ll put a stop to this,” she said to herself. She shouted, “You’d better not do that again!” This brought another dead silence.

Alice noticed something surprising. The pebbles on the floor were all turning into little cakes. Then she had a bright idea. “If I eat one of these cakes,” she thought, “it’s sure to change my size. It can’t possibly make me larger, so it must make me smaller, I suppose.”

So she swallowed one of the cakes. She was delighted, because she began to shrink at once. Soon she was small enough for the door. At once she ran out of the house. Quite a crowd of little animals and birds was waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in the middle. Two guinea-pigs were holding him up. They were giving him something out of a bottle. They all rushed at Alice the moment she came out. But she ran off as fast as she could. Soon she was safe in a thick wood.

Alice walked about in the wood and talked to herself. “The first thing I’ve got to do is to grow to my right size again. And the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the best plan.”

It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged. The only difficulty was that she did not have the smallest idea how to begin. She was looking anxiously among the trees. Then she heard a sharp little bark just over her head. She looked up in a great hurry.

An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes. It weakly stretched out one paw and tried to touch her. “Poor little thing!” said Alice in a kind, soft voice. She tried hard to whistle to it. But all the time she was terribly frightened. Perhaps it was hungry! Then it would very likely eat her up, even after all her kind words.

She hardly knew what she was doing. She picked up a little bit of stick. She held it out to the puppy. The puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once. It gave a yelp of delight. It rushed at the stick and pretended to bite and shake it. Then Alice moved quickly behind a great thistle. She did not want the puppy to run over her. She came out on the other side. At that moment the puppy rushed at the stick again. It fell head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it. Alice thought it was very like playing a game with a cart-horse. She expected it to step on her at any moment. So she ran round the thistle again. Then the puppy began a series of short runs at the stick. Each time it ran a very little way forward and a long way back. It barked hoarsely all the time. At last it sat down a good way off and panted. Its tongue hung out of its mouth. Its great eyes were half shut.

This seemed to Alice a good chance to escape. So she set off at once. She ran until she was quite tired and out of breath. The puppy’s bark now sounded very quiet and far away.

“And yet what a dear little puppy it was!” said Alice. She leant against a buttercup to rest. She fanned herself with one of the leaves. “I would have loved teaching it tricks, if—if I’d only been the right size! Oh dear! I’d nearly forgotten that I’ve got to grow up again! Let me see—how *can* I do it? I suppose I ought to eat or drink something. But the great question is, what?”

The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at the flowers and the blades of grass. But she did not see anything that looked right to eat or drink. There was a large mushroom near her, about the same height as herself. She looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it. Then she thought she might as well see what was on top of it.

She stretched up on tiptoe and looked over the edge of the mushroom. Her eyes immediately met the eyes of a large blue caterpillar. It was sitting on the top with its arms folded. It was quietly smoking a long hookah. It took no notice of her, or of anything else.

### Glossary

- **Bill**: a name. A bill is also a paper that says how much you must pay. The title of this chapter plays on both.
- **ferrets**: small animals that hunt rabbits.
- **executed**: killed as a punishment.
- **housemaid**: a woman who cleans a house for a family.
- **brass plate**: a small metal sign on a door.
- **looking-glass**: a mirror.
- **cucumber-frame**: a small glass house for growing cucumbers.
- **slate**: a thin flat piece of stone on a roof.
- **shan’t**: will not.
- **Jack-in-the-box**: a toy. A little man jumps out when you open the box.
- **sky-rocket**: a firework that flies up very fast.
- **barrowful**: as much as a barrow can hold. A barrow is a small cart with one wheel.
- **pebbles**: small round stones.
- **thistle**: a tall plant with sharp leaves.
- **buttercup**: a small yellow flower.
- **hookah**: a long pipe for smoking.

## CHAPTER V. Advice from a Caterpillar

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence. At last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth. It spoke to her in a slow, sleepy voice.

“Who are *you?*” said the Caterpillar.

This was not a nice way to begin a conversation. Alice answered, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, sir, just now. At least I know who I *was* when I got up this morning. But I think I must have changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar severely. “Explain yourself!”

“I can’t explain *myself*, I’m afraid, sir,” said Alice, “because I’m not myself, you see.”

“I don’t see,” said the Caterpillar.

“I’m afraid I can’t say it more clearly,” Alice answered very politely. “I can’t understand it myself, to begin with. And being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.”

“It isn’t,” said the Caterpillar.

“Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,” said Alice. “But one day you will have to turn into a chrysalis, you know. And after that you will turn into a butterfly. I think you’ll feel a little strange then, won’t you?”

“Not a bit,” said the Caterpillar.

“Well, perhaps your feelings are different,” said Alice. “All I know is, it would feel very strange to *me*.”

“You!” said the Caterpillar in an unkind voice. “Who are *you?*”

This brought them back to the beginning of the conversation. Alice felt a little annoyed, because the Caterpillar’s remarks were so *very* short. She stood up tall. “I think you ought to tell me who *you* are first,” she said very seriously.

“Why?” said the Caterpillar.

This was another difficult question. Alice could not think of any good reason. And the Caterpillar seemed to be in a *very* bad mood. So she turned away.

“Come back!” the Caterpillar called after her. “I’ve something important to say!”

This certainly sounded good. Alice turned and came back.

“Keep your temper,” said the Caterpillar.

“Is that all?” said Alice. She swallowed her anger as well as she could.

“No,” said the Caterpillar.

Alice thought she might as well wait, because she had nothing else to do. And perhaps it would tell her something worth hearing after all. For some minutes it smoked and said nothing. But at last it unfolded its arms. It took the hookah out of its mouth again. “So you think you’re changed, do you?” it said.

“I’m afraid I am, sir,” said Alice. “I can’t remember things as I used to. And I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes!”

“Can’t remember *what* things?” said the Caterpillar.

“Well, I tried to say ‘How doth the little busy bee.’ But it all came out different!” Alice answered in a very sad voice.

“Repeat, ‘*You are old, Father William*,’” said the Caterpillar.

Alice folded her hands and began:

> “You are old, Father William,” the young man said,  
> “And your hair is very white.  
> But you always stand up on your head.  
> At your age, is that right?”
>
> “When I was young,” Father William replied to his son,  
> “I feared it could hurt my brain.  
> But now I am sure that I have none,  
> So I do it again and again.”
>
> “You are old,” said the young man, “as I said before,  
> And you have grown very fat.  
> But you turned a back-somersault in at the door.  
> Please, what is the reason for that?”
>
> “When I was young,” said the wise man, and he shook his grey hair,  
> “I kept my arms and legs moving well  
> With this ointment—one shilling the box.  
> May I sell you two?”
>
> “You are old,” said the young man, “and your jaws are too weak  
> For anything harder than suet.  
> But you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak.  
> Please, how did you manage to do it?”
>
> “When I was young,” said his father, “I studied the law,  
> And I argued each case with my wife.  
> And the strength that it gave to my jaw  
> Has lasted all my life.”
>
> “You are old,” said the young man, “and one would hardly suppose  
> That your eye was as steady as ever.  
> But you balanced an eel on the end of your nose.  
> What made you so clever?”
>
> “I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”  
> Said his father. “Don’t be so proud!  
> Do you think I can listen all day to this stuff?  
> Go, or I’ll kick you down the stairs!”

“That is not said right,” said the Caterpillar.

“Not *quite* right, I’m afraid,” said Alice shyly. “Some of the words have changed.”

“It is wrong from beginning to end,” said the Caterpillar firmly. Then there was silence for some minutes.

The Caterpillar spoke first.

“What size do you want to be?” it asked.

“Oh, I don’t mind about size,” Alice answered quickly. “Only one doesn’t like changing so often, you know.”

“I *don’t* know,” said the Caterpillar.

Alice said nothing. Nobody in her life had ever disagreed with her so much. She felt that she was losing her temper.

“Are you happy now?” said the Caterpillar.

“I would like to be a *little* larger, sir, if you don’t mind,” said Alice. “Three inches is such a terrible height to be.”

“It is a very good height indeed!” said the Caterpillar angrily. It stood up straight as it spoke. (It was exactly three inches high.)

“But I’m not used to it!” said poor Alice in a sad voice. And she thought, “I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily offended!”

“You’ll get used to it in time,” said the Caterpillar. It put the hookah into its mouth and began to smoke again.

This time Alice waited patiently until it wanted to speak again. After a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth. It yawned once or twice and shook itself. Then it got down from the mushroom and crawled away into the grass. As it went, it said only, “One side will make you grow taller. And the other side will make you grow shorter.”

“One side of *what?* The other side of *what?*” thought Alice.

“Of the mushroom,” said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked aloud. A moment later it was out of sight.

Alice stood for a minute and looked thoughtfully at the mushroom. She tried to find its two sides. It was perfectly round, so this was a very difficult question. But at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they could go. She broke off a bit of the edge with each hand.

“And now which is which?” she said to herself. She ate a little of the right-hand bit to see what it would do. The next moment she felt a very hard blow under her chin. Her chin had hit her foot!

She was very frightened by this sudden change. But she was shrinking fast, so she had no time to lose. She began at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin pressed so hard against her foot that she could hardly open her mouth. But she did it at last. She managed to swallow a little of the left-hand bit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Come, my head’s free at last!” said Alice happily. But a moment later she was afraid, because she could not find her shoulders. She looked down. She could see only a very long neck. It seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves. The leaves were far below her.

“What *can* all that green stuff be?” said Alice. “And where *have* my shoulders gone? And oh, my poor hands, why can’t I see you?” She moved them as she spoke. But nothing seemed to happen, except that the distant green leaves shook a little.

There seemed to be no way to bring her hands up to her head. So she tried to bring her head down to them. She was happy to find that her neck could bend easily. It could bend in any direction, like a serpent. She curved it down into a beautiful zigzag. She found that the leaves were only the tops of the trees. She had walked under these same trees before. She was just going to dive in among them. Then a sharp hiss made her pull back quickly. A large pigeon had flown into her face. It was beating her hard with its wings.

“Serpent!” screamed the Pigeon.

“I’m *not* a serpent!” said Alice angrily. “Leave me alone!”

“Serpent, I say again!” said the Pigeon, but more quietly. Then it added, with a kind of sob, “I’ve tried every way. And nothing seems to please them!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Alice.

“I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks. And I’ve tried hedges,” the Pigeon went on. It did not listen to her. “But those serpents! There’s no pleasing them!”

Alice was more and more puzzled. But she thought there was no use in speaking until the Pigeon had finished.

“Hatching the eggs is trouble enough,” said the Pigeon. “But I must watch for serpents night and day as well! Why, I haven’t slept at all for three weeks!”

“I’m very sorry you’ve been annoyed,” said Alice. She was beginning to understand.

“And I had just taken the highest tree in the wood,” the Pigeon went on. Its voice rose to a scream. “And I was just thinking I was free of them at last. And then they must come wriggling down from the sky! Ugh, Serpent!”

“But I’m *not* a serpent, I tell you!” said Alice. “I’m a—I’m a—”

“Well! *What* are you?” said the Pigeon. “I can see you’re trying to invent something!”

“I—I’m a little girl,” said Alice. She was not very sure, because she remembered all the changes of that day.

“A likely story indeed!” said the Pigeon in a very unkind voice. “I’ve seen a lot of little girls in my time. But never *one* with a neck like that! No, no! You’re a serpent, and there’s no use saying you aren’t. I suppose next you’ll tell me you never tasted an egg!”

“I *have* tasted eggs, certainly,” said Alice, who was a very truthful child. “But little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know.”

“I don’t believe it,” said the Pigeon. “But if they do, why then they’re a kind of serpent. That’s all I can say.”

This was a very new idea to Alice. So she was quite silent for a minute or two. So the Pigeon could add, “You’re looking for eggs, I know *that* well enough. And what does it matter to me if you’re a little girl or a serpent?”

“It matters a lot to *me*,” said Alice quickly. “But I’m not looking for eggs, as it happens. And if I was, I wouldn’t want *yours*. I don’t like them raw.”

“Well, be off, then!” said the Pigeon in a sulky voice. It sat down again in its nest.

Alice bent down among the trees as well as she could. It was difficult, because her neck kept catching in the branches. Now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered the pieces of mushroom in her hands. She set to work very carefully. She ate a little of one and then a little of the other. Sometimes she grew taller and sometimes shorter. At last she was back at her usual height.

She had not been anywhere near the right size for a long time. So it felt quite strange at first. But she got used to it in a few minutes. She began talking to herself, as usual. “Come, half my plan is done now! How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m going to be from one minute to the next! But I’m back at my right size. The next thing is to get into that beautiful garden. How *can* I do that, I wonder?”

As she said this, she came suddenly to an open place. There was a little house in it, about four feet high. “I don’t know who lives there,” thought Alice. “But I can’t go to them at *this* size. Why, I would frighten them terribly!” So she began to eat the right-hand bit again. She did not go near the house until she was nine inches high.

### Glossary

- **hookah**: a long pipe for smoking, with a tube.
- **chrysalis**: the hard case of a caterpillar before it becomes a butterfly.
- **Keep your temper**: stay calm and do not get angry.
- **somersault**: a jump where you turn over in the air.
- **ointment**: a soft cream you put on your skin.
- **shilling**: an old British coin.
- **suet**: hard fat from an animal, used in cooking.
- **stalk**: the long thin part of a plant.
- **serpent**: a snake.
- **Hatching**: keeping eggs warm until the babies come out.
- **A likely story**: people say this when they do not believe you.
- **raw**: not cooked.

## CHAPTER VI. Pig and Pepper

For a minute or two Alice stood and looked at the house. She wondered what to do next. Suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood. (She thought he was a footman because of his livery. By his face alone, she would have called him a fish.) He knocked loudly at the door with his knuckles. Another footman in livery opened it. He had a round face and large eyes like a frog. Alice saw that both footmen had powdered hair that curled all over their heads. She wanted very much to know what was happening. So she crept a little way out of the wood to listen.

The Fish-Footman took a great letter from under his arm. It was nearly as large as he was. He handed it to the other footman. He said in a serious voice, “For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet.” The Frog-Footman repeated it in the same serious voice. He only changed the order of the words a little. “From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.”

Then they both bowed low, and their curls got tangled together.

Alice laughed so much at this that she had to run back into the wood. She was afraid they would hear her. When she looked out again, the Fish-Footman was gone. The other footman was sitting on the ground near the door. He was looking stupidly up at the sky.

Alice went shyly up to the door and knocked.

“There’s no use in knocking,” said the Footman, “and that for two reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are. Secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you.” And there certainly *was* a very strange noise inside. There was howling and sneezing all the time. And every now and then there was a great crash. It sounded as if a dish or kettle had broken to pieces.

“Please, then,” said Alice, “how am I to get in?”

“There might be some sense in your knocking,” the Footman went on. He did not listen to her. “But only if we had the door between us. For example, if you were *inside*, you might knock. And I could let you out, you know.” He looked up at the sky all the time he was speaking. Alice thought this was very rude. “But perhaps he can’t help it,” she said to herself. “His eyes are so *very* nearly at the top of his head. But he could at least answer questions.—How am I to get in?” she said again, out loud.

“I shall sit here,” the Footman said, “till tomorrow—”

At this moment the door of the house opened. A large plate came flying out, straight at the Footman’s head. It just touched his nose. Then it broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him.

“—or next day, maybe,” the Footman went on in the same voice. It was exactly as if nothing had happened.

“How am I to get in?” asked Alice again, more loudly.

“*Are* you to get in at all?” said the Footman. “That’s the first question, you know.”

It was, of course. But Alice did not like to hear it. “It’s really terrible,” she said quietly to herself, “the way all the creatures argue. It’s enough to drive one crazy!”

The Footman seemed to think this was a good time to repeat his remark. But he changed it a little. “I shall sit here,” he said, “on and off, for days and days.”

“But what am *I* to do?” said Alice.

“Anything you like,” said the Footman, and he began to whistle.

“Oh, there’s no use in talking to him,” said Alice. She did not know what else to do. “He’s completely stupid!” Then she opened the door and went in.

The door led straight into a large kitchen. It was full of smoke from one end to the other. The Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby. The cook was leaning over the fire. She was stirring a large cauldron, and it seemed to be full of soup.

“There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!” Alice said to herself. She could hardly say it, because she was sneezing.

There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed sometimes. And the baby sneezed and howled, sneezed and howled, and never stopped for a moment. Only two things in the kitchen did not sneeze: the cook, and a large cat. The cat was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.

“Please would you tell me,” said Alice, “why your cat grins like that?” She said it a little shyly. She was not quite sure if it was good manners for her to speak first.

“It’s a Cheshire cat,” said the Duchess, “and that’s why. Pig!”

She said the last word so suddenly and so violently that Alice jumped. But a moment later she saw that the word was for the baby. It was not for her. So she felt braver and went on:

“I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned. In fact, I didn’t know that cats *could* grin.”

“They all can,” said the Duchess, “and most of ’em do.”

“I don’t know of any that do,” Alice said very politely. She felt quite pleased to be in a conversation.

“You don’t know much,” said the Duchess, “and that’s a fact.”

Alice did not like the sound of this at all. She thought it would be good to talk about something else. She was trying to choose a subject. Then the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire. At once she began throwing everything she could reach at the Duchess and the baby. The fire-irons came first. Then came a shower of saucepans, plates and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them, even when they hit her. No one could say if they hurt the baby or not. It was already howling so much.

“Oh, *please* mind what you’re doing!” cried Alice. She jumped up and down in terror. “Oh, there goes his *precious* nose!” A very large saucepan flew close by it and very nearly took it off.

The Duchess spoke in a rough, deep voice. “If everybody minded their own business, the world would go round a lot faster.”

“And that would *not* be a good thing,” said Alice. She was very glad to show a little of what she knew. “Just think what it would do to the day and night! You see, the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—”

“Talking of axes,” said the Duchess, “chop off her head!” (‘Axis’ and ‘axes’ sound almost the same. Axes are tools for cutting.)

Alice looked anxiously at the cook, to see if she was going to do it. But the cook was busy stirring the soup and did not seem to be listening. So Alice went on: “Twenty-four hours, I *think*. Or is it twelve? I—”

“Oh, don’t bother *me*,” said the Duchess. “I never could stand numbers!” Then she began nursing her child again. She sang a sort of lullaby to it. She gave it a violent shake at the end of every line:

> “Speak roughly to your little boy,  
> And beat him when he sneezes.  
> He only does it to annoy,  
> Because he knows it teases.”

CHORUS. (In which the cook and the baby joined):

> “Wow! wow! wow!”

The Duchess sang the second verse of the song. While she sang, she kept throwing the baby violently up and down. The poor little thing howled so much that Alice could hardly hear the words:

> “I speak severely to my boy,  
> I beat him when he sneezes.  
> For he can really enjoy  
> The pepper when he pleases!”

CHORUS.

> “Wow! wow! wow!”

“Here! You may nurse it a bit, if you like!” the Duchess said to Alice. As she spoke, she threw the baby at her. “I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen.” She hurried out of the room. The cook threw a frying-pan after her, but it just missed her.

Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, because it was a strange-shaped little creature. Its arms and legs stuck out in all directions. “Just like a star-fish,” thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it. It kept bending itself double and straightening itself out again. So for the first minute or two, she could only just hold it.

Soon she found the right way to nurse it. (You twisted it up into a sort of knot. Then you held its right ear and left foot tightly. So it could not undo itself.) Then she carried it out into the open air. “I must take this child with me,” thought Alice. “If I don’t, they’re sure to kill it in a day or two. Wouldn’t it be murder to leave it behind?” She said the last words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply. (It had stopped sneezing by this time.) “Don’t grunt,” said Alice. “That’s not at all a proper way to express yourself.”

The baby grunted again. Alice looked very anxiously into its face to see what was wrong. It certainly had a *very* turned-up nose. It was much more like a snout than a real nose. Also, its eyes were getting very small for a baby. Alice did not like the look of the thing at all. “But perhaps it was only sobbing,” she thought. She looked into its eyes again to see if there were any tears.

No, there were no tears. Alice spoke seriously. “Are you going to turn into a pig, my dear? Then I’ll have nothing more to do with you. Mind now!” The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted; it was impossible to say which). They went on for some time in silence.

Alice was just beginning to think to herself. “Now, what am I to do with this creature when I get it home?” Then it grunted again, so violently that she looked down into its face in alarm. This time there was *no* mistake. It was a pig, nothing more and nothing less. She felt that it would be quite silly to carry it any further.

So she put the little creature down. She felt quite happy to see it trot away quietly into the wood. “If it had grown up, it would have made a terribly ugly child,” she thought. “But it makes rather a handsome pig, I think.” And she began to think about other children she knew. They might do very well as pigs. She was just saying, “if one only knew the right way to change them—” Then she got a little surprise. The Cheshire Cat was sitting on a branch of a tree, a few yards away.

The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked kind, she thought. But it had *very* long claws and a great many teeth. So she felt she must treat it with respect.

“Cheshire Puss,” she began, rather shyly. She did not know if it would like the name. But it only grinned a little wider. “Come, it’s pleased so far,” thought Alice, and she went on. “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”

“That depends a lot on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“I don’t much care where—” said Alice.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.

“—so long as I get *somewhere*,” Alice added, to explain.

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Alice felt that she could not say no to this, so she tried another question. “What sort of people live around here?”

“In *that* direction,” said the Cat, waving its right paw round, “lives a Hatter. And in *that* direction,” and it waved the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like. They’re both mad.”

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” said Alice.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

Alice didn’t think that proved it at all. But she went on: “And how do you know that you’re mad?”

“To begin with,” said the Cat, “a dog’s not mad. You agree with that?”

“I suppose so,” said Alice.

“Well, then,” the Cat went on, “you see, a dog growls when it’s angry. It wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now *I* growl when I’m pleased, and I wag my tail when I’m angry. So I’m mad.”

“*I* call it purring, not growling,” said Alice.

“Call it what you like,” said the Cat. “Do you play croquet with the Queen today?”

“I would like that very much,” said Alice, “but nobody has invited me yet.”

“You’ll see me there,” said the Cat, and it vanished.

Alice was not much surprised at this. She was getting so used to strange things. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again.

“By the way, what happened to the baby?” said the Cat. “I nearly forgot to ask.”

“It turned into a pig,” Alice said quietly. She spoke just as if the Cat had come back in a natural way.

“I thought it would,” said the Cat, and it vanished again.

Alice waited a little. She half expected to see it again, but it did not appear. After a minute or two she walked on. She went towards the place where the Cat said the March Hare lived. “I’ve seen hatters before,” she said to herself. “The March Hare will be the most interesting. And perhaps, as this is May, he won’t be raving mad. At least not as mad as he was in March.” (People say that hares go mad in March.) As she said this, she looked up. There was the Cat again, sitting on a branch of a tree.

“Did you say pig, or fig?” said the Cat.

“I said pig,” said Alice. “And I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly. You make one quite giddy.”

“All right,” said the Cat. This time it vanished quite slowly. It began with the end of the tail and ended with the grin. The grin stayed for some time after the rest of the Cat had gone.

“Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,” thought Alice. “But a grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!”

She did not go much farther before she saw the house of the March Hare. She thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like ears. And the roof was thatched with fur. The house was so large that she did not like to go nearer. First she ate some more of the left-hand bit of mushroom. Then she was about two feet high. Even then she walked towards it rather shyly. “Suppose he is raving mad after all!” she said to herself. “I almost wish I’d gone to see the Hatter instead!”

### Glossary

- **footman**: a man servant who opens doors and brings messages.
- **livery**: a special uniform for a servant.
- **knuckles**: the bones where your fingers join your hand.
- **curled**: grew in round shapes, not straight.
- **crept**: moved slowly and quietly.
- **croquet**: a garden game. You hit balls through small arches with a wooden hammer.
- **howling**: making a long, loud crying noise.
- **sneezing**: making a sudden loud noise through your nose.
- **nursing**: holding and looking after a baby.
- **cauldron**: a very big cooking pot.
- **sneezed**: made a sudden loud noise through the nose.
- **howled**: made a long, loud crying noise.
- **hearth**: the floor of a fireplace.
- **Cheshire cat**: Cheshire is a part of England. People said “to grin like a Cheshire cat”. To grin is to give a big smile.
- **grin**: a big smile. To grin is to give a big smile.
- **grinned**: gave a big smile.
- **fire-irons**: metal tools for looking after a fire.
- **axis**: the line that the earth turns around.
- **axes**: more than one axe. An axe is a heavy tool for cutting.
- **lullaby**: a soft song to help a baby sleep.
- **sneezes**: makes a sudden loud noise through the nose.
- **grunted**: made the short, low sound of a pig.
- **snout**: a pig’s nose.
- **paw**: the foot of an animal such as a cat or dog.
- **vanished**: suddenly went away, so that nobody could see it.
- **raving mad**: completely crazy.
- **fig**: a small sweet fruit.
- **thatched**: covered on the roof with straw or a similar thing.

## CHAPTER VII. A Mad Tea-Party

A table stood under a tree in front of the house. The March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it. A Dormouse sat between them, fast asleep. The other two were using him as a cushion. They rested their elbows on him and talked over his head. “Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,” thought Alice. “But he’s asleep, so I suppose he doesn’t mind.”

The table was large. But the three were all crowded together at one corner of it. “No room! No room!” they cried when they saw Alice coming. “There’s *plenty* of room!” said Alice angrily. She sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.

“Have some wine,” the March Hare said kindly.

Alice looked all round the table, but there was only tea on it. “I don’t see any wine,” she said.

“There isn’t any,” said the March Hare.

“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” said Alice angrily.

“It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down,” said the March Hare. “Nobody invited you.”

“I didn’t know it was *your* table,” said Alice. “It’s laid for a great many more than three.”

“Your hair wants cutting,” said the Hatter. He had looked at Alice for some time with great curiosity. This was his first speech.

“You should learn not to make personal remarks,” Alice said quite severely. “It’s very rude.”

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide when he heard this. But all he *said* was, “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

“Come, we shall have some fun now!” thought Alice. “I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,” she said aloud.

“Do you mean that you think you can find the answer?” said the March Hare.

“Exactly so,” said Alice.

“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.

“I do,” Alice answered quickly. “At least—at least I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “You might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

“It *is* the same thing with you,” said the Hatter. (The Dormouse was always asleep, so for him it was true.) Here the conversation stopped. The party sat silent for a minute. Meanwhile, Alice tried to remember everything she knew about ravens and writing-desks. That wasn’t much.

The Hatter spoke first. He turned to Alice and said, “What day of the month is it?” He had taken his watch out of his pocket. He was looking at it uneasily. Every now and then he shook it and held it to his ear.

Alice thought a little and then said, “The fourth.”

“Two days wrong!” said the Hatter with a sigh. “I told you butter wouldn’t suit the works!” he added. He looked angrily at the March Hare.

“It was the *best* butter,” the March Hare answered quietly.

“Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,” the Hatter said crossly. “You shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.”

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it sadly. Then he dipped it into his cup of tea and looked at it again. But he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark. “It was the *best* butter, you know.”

Alice was looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. “What a funny watch!” she said. “It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t tell what o’clock it is!”

“Why should it?” said the Hatter quietly. “Does *your* watch tell you what year it is?”

“Of course not,” Alice answered at once. “But that’s because it stays the same year for such a long time.”

“Which is just the case with *mine*,” said the Hatter.

Alice felt terribly puzzled. The Hatter’s remark seemed to have no meaning at all. And yet it was certainly English. “I don’t quite understand you,” she said, as politely as she could.

“The Dormouse is asleep again,” said the Hatter. He poured a little hot tea on the Dormouse’s nose.

The Dormouse shook his head crossly. With his eyes shut, he said, “Of course, of course. Just what I was going to say myself.”

The Hatter turned to Alice again. “Have you guessed the riddle yet?” he said.

“No, I give up,” Alice answered. “What’s the answer?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter.

“Nor I,” said the March Hare.

Alice gave a tired sigh. “I think you could do something better with the time,” she said. “You just waste it on riddles with no answers.”

“You don’t know Time as well as I do,” said the Hatter. “If you did, you wouldn’t talk about wasting *it*. It’s *him*.” (The Hatter spoke as if Time was a man.)

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Alice.

“Of course you don’t!” the Hatter said, and he tossed his head rudely. “I dare say you never even spoke to Time!”

“Perhaps not,” Alice said carefully. “But I know I have to beat time when I learn music.”

“Ah! That explains it,” said the Hatter. “He won’t stand beating.” (In music, you ‘beat time’ with your hand. But ‘beat’ also means ‘hit’.) “If you stayed friends with him, he’d do almost anything you liked with the clock. For example, suppose it was nine o’clock in the morning. It’s just time to begin lessons. You would only have to whisper to Time. And round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!”

(“I only wish it was,” the March Hare said quietly to himself.)

“That would be grand, certainly,” said Alice thoughtfully. “But then—I wouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.”

“Not at first, perhaps,” said the Hatter. “But you could keep it at half-past one as long as you liked.”

“Is that what *you* do?” Alice asked.

The Hatter shook his head sadly. “Not I!” he answered. “We quarrelled last March—just before *he* went mad, you know—” He pointed his tea spoon at the March Hare. “—it was at the great concert of the Queen of Hearts. I had to sing

> ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!  
> How I wonder what you’re at!’

You know the song, perhaps?”

“I’ve heard something like it,” said Alice. (The real song is about a little star.)

“It goes on, you know,” the Hatter said, “in this way:

> ‘Up above the world you fly,  
> Like a tea-tray in the sky.  
> Twinkle, twinkle—’”

Here the Dormouse shook himself. He began to sing in his sleep, “*Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle*—” He went on for so long that they had to pinch him to stop him.

“Well, I had hardly finished the first verse,” said the Hatter. “Then the Queen jumped up and shouted, ‘He’s murdering the time! Off with his head!’” (She meant he sang very badly, but she wanted his head for it.)

“How terribly savage!” said Alice.

“And ever since then,” the Hatter said sadly, “he won’t do a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.”

A bright idea came into Alice’s head. “Is that the reason so many tea-things are out here?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” said the Hatter with a sigh. “It’s always tea-time, and we have no time to wash the things in between.”

“Then you keep moving round the table, I suppose?” said Alice.

“Exactly so,” said the Hatter, “as the things get used.”

“But what happens when you come to the beginning again?” Alice dared to ask.

“Suppose we change the subject,” the March Hare interrupted, and he yawned. “I’m getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know one,” said Alice, rather frightened at this idea.

“Then the Dormouse shall!” they both cried. “Wake up, Dormouse!” And they pinched him on both sides at once.

The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. “I wasn’t asleep,” he said in a rough, weak voice. “I heard every word you fellows were saying.”

“Tell us a story!” said the March Hare.

“Yes, please do!” said Alice.

“And be quick about it,” added the Hatter. “Or you’ll be asleep again before it’s done.”

The Dormouse began in a great hurry. “Once upon a time there were three little sisters. And their names were Elsie, Lacie and Tillie. And they lived at the bottom of a well—”

“What did they live on?” said Alice. She was always very interested in eating and drinking.

“They lived on treacle,” said the Dormouse, after he thought for a minute or two.

“They couldn’t have done that, you know,” Alice said gently. “Treacle makes you ill.”

“So they were,” said the Dormouse. “*Very* ill.”

Alice tried to imagine this very strange way of living. But it puzzled her too much. So she went on: “But why did they live at the bottom of a well?”

“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very seriously.

“I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice answered, offended, “so I can’t take more.”

“You mean you can’t take *less*,” said the Hatter. “It’s very easy to take *more* than nothing.” (Nothing is the smallest amount, so any tea is more.)

“Nobody asked *your* opinion,” said Alice.

“Who’s making personal remarks now?” the Hatter asked proudly.

Alice did not quite know what to say to this. So she took some tea and bread-and-butter. Then she turned to the Dormouse and asked her question again. “Why did they live at the bottom of a well?”

The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it. Then he said, “It was a treacle-well.”

“There’s no such thing!” Alice began very angrily. But the Hatter and the March Hare went “Sh! sh!” The Dormouse was sulky. “If you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for yourself,” he said.

“No, please go on!” Alice said very politely. “I won’t interrupt again. I dare say there may be *one*.”

“One, indeed!” said the Dormouse angrily. But he agreed to go on. “And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, you know—”

“What did they draw?” said Alice. She quite forgot her promise.

“Treacle,” said the Dormouse. This time he did not stop to think at all.

“I want a clean cup,” the Hatter interrupted. “Let’s all move one place on.”

He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him. The March Hare moved into the Dormouse’s place. Alice, not very happily, took the March Hare’s place. Only the Hatter got anything good from the change. Alice was much worse off than before. This was because the March Hare had just knocked the milk-jug over into his plate.

Alice did not want to offend the Dormouse again. So she began very carefully. “But I don’t understand. Where did they draw the treacle from?”

“You can draw water out of a water-well,” said the Hatter. “So I should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid?” (‘Draw’ also means ‘take out’, as you take water from a well.)

“But they were *in* the well,” Alice said to the Dormouse. She decided not to notice the Hatter’s last remark.

“Of course they were,” said the Dormouse, “—well in.” (‘Well in’ means ‘far in’.)

This answer confused poor Alice very much. So she let the Dormouse go on for some time without interrupting.

“They were learning to draw,” the Dormouse went on. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, because he was getting very sleepy. “And they drew all kinds of things—everything that begins with an M—”

“Why with an M?” said Alice.

“Why not?” said the March Hare.

Alice was silent.

The Dormouse had closed his eyes by this time and was falling asleep. But the Hatter pinched him. He woke up again with a little scream. He went on: “—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness. You know you say things are ‘much of a muchness’. Did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?”

“Really, now you ask me,” said Alice, very confused, “I don’t think—”

“Then you shouldn’t talk,” said the Hatter.

Alice could not bear this rudeness. She got up in great disgust and walked away. The Dormouse fell asleep at once. Neither of the others took any notice of her going. But she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her. The last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.

“At any rate I’ll never go *there* again!” said Alice. She was walking carefully through the wood. “It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!”

Just as she said this, she noticed something. One of the trees had a door in it. “That’s very curious!” she thought. “But everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.” And in she went.

Once more she was in the long hall, close to the little glass table. “Now, I’ll do better this time,” she said to herself. First she took the little golden key and unlocked the door to the garden. Then she ate some of the mushroom (she had kept a piece in her pocket). She went on until she was about a foot high. Then she walked down the little passage. And *then*—she was at last in the beautiful garden. She was among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.

### Glossary

- **civil**: polite.
- **personal remarks**: rude comments about how someone looks.
- **raven**: a large black bird.
- **writing-desk**: a small table for writing.
- **riddles**: questions with a clever answer.
- **works**: the parts inside a watch.
- **beat time**: to show the rhythm of music with your hand.
- **twinkling**: shining on and off, like a star. “In a twinkling” means very quickly.
- **tea-tray**: a flat thing for carrying cups.
- **savage**: wild, cruel or very angry.
- **treacle**: a thick, sweet, dark liquid.
- **well**: a deep hole in the ground for getting water.
- **draw**: to make a picture; also, to take water from a well.
- **much of a muchness**: almost the same.

## CHAPTER VIII. The Queen’s Croquet-Ground

A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden. The roses on it were white. But three gardeners were working at it, and they were busily painting the roses red. Alice thought this was a very curious thing. She went nearer to watch them. Just as she came up to them, she heard one of them speak.

“Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like that!”

“I couldn’t help it,” said Five in a sulky voice. “Seven pushed my elbow.”

Seven looked up and said, “That’s right, Five! Always say it’s someone else’s fault!”

“*You’d* better not talk!” said Five. “I heard the Queen only yesterday. She said they should behead you!”

“What for?” said the one who spoke first.

“That’s none of *your* business, Two!” said Seven.

“Yes, it *is* his business!” said Five. “And I’ll tell him. It was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.”

Seven threw down his brush. “Well, of all the unfair things—” he began. Then he saw Alice. She was standing there and watching them. He stopped suddenly. The others looked round too, and all of them bowed low.

“Would you tell me,” said Alice a little shyly, “why you are painting those roses?”

Five and Seven said nothing, but they looked at Two. Two began in a low voice. “Well, the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to be a *red* rose-tree. We put a white one in by mistake. If the Queen finds out, all our heads will be cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we’re doing our best before she comes, to—”

Five was looking anxiously across the garden. At this moment he called out, “The Queen! The Queen!” The three gardeners at once threw themselves flat on their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps. Alice looked round. She really wanted to see the Queen.

First came ten soldiers with clubs. They were all shaped like the three gardeners, long and flat. Their hands and feet were at the corners. Next came the ten courtiers. They had diamonds all over them, and they walked two and two, like the soldiers. After them came the royal children. There were ten of them. The little dears jumped happily along in pairs, hand in hand. They all had hearts on them. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens. Alice saw the White Rabbit among them. He was talking quickly and nervously, and he smiled at everything people said. He went past and did not notice her. Then came the Knave of Hearts. He carried the King’s crown on a dark red velvet cushion. And last of all in this grand procession came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS.

Alice was not sure what to do. Should she lie on her face like the three gardeners? But she could not remember any such rule for processions. “And anyway,” she thought, “suppose all the people have to lie on their faces. Then they can’t see the procession. So what is the use of it?” So she stood still and waited.

When the procession came opposite Alice, they all stopped and looked at her. “Who is this?” the Queen said in a hard voice. She said it to the Knave of Hearts, but he only bowed and smiled.

“Idiot!” said the Queen, and she moved her head quickly and impatiently. Then she turned to Alice. “What’s your name, child?”

“My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,” said Alice very politely. But she added to herself, “Why, they’re only a pack of cards, after all. I needn’t be afraid of them!”

“And who are *these?*” said the Queen. She pointed to the three gardeners round the rose-tree. They were lying on their faces, you see. The pattern on their backs was the same as on the rest of the pack. So she could not tell who they were. They could be gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children.

“How should *I* know?” said Alice. She was surprised at her own courage. “It’s no business of *mine*.”

The Queen turned dark red with anger. She stared at Alice for a moment like a wild beast. Then she screamed, “Off with her head! Off—”

“Nonsense!” said Alice, very loudly and firmly, and the Queen was silent.

The King put his hand on her arm. He said nervously, “Consider, my dear: she is only a child!”

The Queen turned angrily away from him. “Turn them over!” she said to the Knave.

The Knave did this very carefully, with one foot.

“Get up!” said the Queen in a high, loud voice. The three gardeners jumped up at once. They began to bow to the King, the Queen, the royal children and everybody else.

“Stop that!” screamed the Queen. “You make me dizzy.” Then she turned to the rose-tree. “What *have* you been doing here?”

Two went down on one knee. “May it please your Majesty,” he said very humbly, “we were trying—”

“*I* see!” said the Queen. She was looking at the roses all this time. “Off with their heads!” The procession moved on. Three of the soldiers stayed behind to execute the unlucky gardeners. The gardeners ran to Alice for help.

“They won’t behead you!” said Alice. She put them into a large flower-pot near her. The three soldiers walked about for a minute or two and looked for them. Then they quietly marched off after the others.

“Are their heads off?” shouted the Queen.

“Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!” the soldiers shouted back. (The heads were gone: they were in the flower-pot!)

“That’s right!” shouted the Queen. “Can you play croquet?”

The soldiers were silent, and they looked at Alice. The question was clearly for her.

“Yes!” shouted Alice.

“Come on, then!” roared the Queen. Alice joined the procession. She wondered very much what would happen next.

“It’s—it’s a very fine day!” said a shy voice beside her. She was walking by the White Rabbit. He was looking anxiously into her face.

“Very,” said Alice. “—where’s the Duchess?”

“Hush! Hush!” said the Rabbit in a low, quick voice. He looked anxiously over his shoulder. Then he stood on tiptoe and put his mouth close to her ear. “She’s under sentence of execution,” he whispered.

“What for?” said Alice.

“Did you say ‘What a pity!’?” the Rabbit asked.

“No, I didn’t,” said Alice. “I don’t think it’s at all a pity. I said ‘What for?’”

“She boxed the Queen’s ears—” the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little scream of laughter. “Oh, hush!” the Rabbit whispered. He sounded frightened. “The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the Queen said—”

“Get to your places!” shouted the Queen in a voice like thunder. People began to run about in all directions, and they fell against each other. But after a minute or two they were all in their places. Then the game began. Alice had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life. It was all ridges and furrows. The balls were live hedgehogs, and the mallets were live flamingoes. The soldiers made the arches. They had to bend over and stand on their hands and feet.

At first, Alice’s main problem was her flamingo. She got its body comfortably under her arm, with its legs hanging down. Then she got its neck nice and straight. She was ready to hit the hedgehog with its head. But usually, at that moment, the flamingo *would* twist round. Then it looked up into her face, so puzzled that she always burst out laughing. Then she got its head down and was ready to begin again. But now the hedgehog had unrolled itself and was crawling away! That was very annoying. Wherever she sent the hedgehog, there was usually a ridge or furrow in the way. And the bent-over soldiers kept getting up. They walked off to other parts of the ground. Alice soon decided that it was a very difficult game indeed.

The players all played at the same time and did not wait for their turns. They quarrelled all the time and fought for the hedgehogs. Very soon the Queen was furious. She stamped about. About once a minute she shouted “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!”

Alice began to feel very uneasy. She had not argued with the Queen yet, but it could happen any minute. “And then,” she thought, “what will happen to me? They like beheading people so much here! The great wonder is that anyone is still alive!”

She was looking for a way to escape. She wondered if she could get away and nobody would see her. Then she noticed something curious in the air. It puzzled her very much at first. But she watched it for a minute or two. Then she saw it was a grin. “It’s the Cheshire Cat,” she said to herself. “Now I will have somebody to talk to.”

Soon there was enough mouth for the Cat to speak with. “How are you getting on?” it said.

Alice waited until the eyes appeared, and then she nodded. “It’s no use speaking to it yet,” she thought. “I must wait until its ears come, or at least one of them.” In another minute the whole head appeared. Then Alice put down her flamingo and began to tell the Cat about the game. She was very glad to have someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think there was enough of it in sight now. And no more of it appeared.

“I don’t think they play fairly at all,” Alice began, in a complaining voice. “They all quarrel so terribly that you can’t hear yourself speak. And they don’t seem to have any real rules. Or if there are rules, nobody follows them. And you have no idea how confusing it is when all the things are alive! For example, I have to go through that arch next. And it’s walking about at the other end of the ground! And just now I was going to croquet the Queen’s hedgehog. But it ran away when it saw mine coming!”

“How do you like the Queen?” said the Cat in a low voice.

“Not at all,” said Alice. “She’s so very—” Just then she noticed the Queen. She was close behind Alice, and she was listening. So Alice went on, “—likely to win, that it’s hardly worth finishing the game.”

The Queen smiled and walked on.

“Who *are* you talking to?” said the King. He came up to Alice and looked at the Cat’s head with great curiosity.

“It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,” said Alice. “Please let me introduce it.”

“I don’t like the look of it at all,” said the King. “But it may kiss my hand if it likes.”

“I’d rather not,” said the Cat.

“Don’t be impertinent,” said the King, “and don’t look at me like that!” He moved behind Alice as he spoke.

“A cat may look at a king,” said Alice. “I’ve read that in some book, but I don’t remember where.” (This is an old saying: even small people have some rights.)

“Well, someone must take it away,” said the King very firmly. He called to the Queen, who was passing at that moment. “My dear! I wish someone would take this cat away!”

The Queen had only one way of solving all problems, big or small. “Off with his head!” she said, and she did not even look round.

“I’ll fetch the executioner myself,” said the King eagerly, and he hurried off.

Alice heard the Queen’s voice in the distance. She was screaming with anger. So Alice thought she might as well go back. She could see how the game was going. She had already heard the Queen order the execution of three players. This was because they had missed their turns. Alice did not like the look of things at all. The game was so confused that she never knew if it was her turn. So she went to look for her hedgehog.

Her hedgehog was fighting with another hedgehog. Alice thought this was an excellent chance to croquet one of them with the other. There was only one problem. Her flamingo was now on the other side of the garden. Alice could see it there. It was trying helplessly to fly up into a tree.

Alice caught the flamingo and brought it back. But by that time the fight was over, and both hedgehogs were out of sight. “But it doesn’t matter much,” thought Alice. “All the arches have left this side of the ground.” So she put the flamingo under her arm, so that it could not escape again. Then she went back for a little more conversation with her friend.

When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised. Quite a large crowd stood round it. The executioner, the King and the Queen were arguing. They were all talking at once. All the others were quite silent, and they looked very uncomfortable.

As soon as Alice appeared, all three of them asked her to decide the question. They repeated their arguments to her. But they all spoke at once. So it was very hard to understand exactly what they said.

The executioner’s argument was this. You could not cut off a head without a body to cut it from. He had never had to do such a thing before. And he was not going to begin at *his* age.

The King’s argument was this. You could behead anything with a head, and you must not talk nonsense.

The Queen’s argument was this. Somebody must do something about it in less than no time. If not, she would have everybody executed, all round. (Because of this last remark, the whole party looked so serious and anxious.)

Alice could think of nothing else to say. So she said, “It belongs to the Duchess. You’d better ask *her* about it.”

“She’s in prison,” the Queen said to the executioner. “Fetch her here.” And the executioner went off like an arrow.

The Cat’s head began to fade away the moment he left. By the time he came back with the Duchess, it was completely gone. So the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down and looked for it. Meanwhile, the rest of the party went back to the game.

### Glossary

- **curious**: strange.
- **tulip-roots**: the parts of tulip flowers under the ground. They look like onions.
- **procession**: a long line of people walking at a special event.
- **courtiers**: people who live near a king or queen and serve them.
- **Knave**: a playing card, the jack. It is also an old word for a bad man.
- **velvet**: a soft, thick cloth.
- **behead**: to cut off someone’s head.
- **execution**: killing someone as a punishment. An executioner does this job.
- **boxed the Queen’s ears**: hit the Queen on the ears.
- **croquet**: a garden game. You hit balls through small arches with a mallet. To croquet a ball is to hit another player’s ball away.
- **mallets**: wooden hammers used in croquet.
- **ridges and furrows**: long high and low lines in the ground.
- **hedgehogs**: small animals with sharp spines. They roll into a ball.
- **flamingoes**: tall pink birds with long legs and long necks.
- **impertinent**: rude.
- **less than no time**: the Queen’s way of saying “at once”.

## CHAPTER IX. The Mock Turtle’s Story

“You can’t think how glad I am to see you again!” said the Duchess. “You dear old thing!” She put her arm lovingly through Alice’s arm, and they walked off together.

Alice was very glad to find her in such a good mood. “Perhaps only the pepper made her so savage in the kitchen,” she thought.

Alice spoke to herself, but she did not sound very hopeful. “When *I’m* a Duchess, I won’t have any pepper in my kitchen *at all*. Soup is fine without—Maybe pepper always makes people hot-tempered,” she went on. She was very pleased, because she had found a new kind of rule. “And vinegar makes them sour. And camomile makes them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and things like that make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew *that*. Then they wouldn’t be so mean with it, you know—” (We use these words for food, and for people too.)

She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time. So she was a little surprised at the Duchess’s voice close to her ear. “You’re thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can’t tell you now what the moral of that is. But I will remember it in a moment.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t have one,” Alice said carefully.

“Tut, tut, child!” said the Duchess. “Everything has a moral, if only you can find it.” And she pushed herself closer to Alice’s side as she spoke.

Alice did not much like being so close to her. First, the Duchess was *very* ugly. Secondly, she was exactly the right height to rest her chin on Alice’s shoulder. And it was an uncomfortably sharp chin. But Alice did not want to be rude, so she tried not to mind.

“The game’s going on rather better now,” she said, to keep the conversation going.

“’Tis so,” said the Duchess. “And the moral of that is—‘Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love, that makes the world go round!’”

“Somebody said,” Alice whispered, “that it happens when everybody is minding their own business!”

“Ah, well! It means much the same thing,” said the Duchess. She dug her sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder. “And the moral of *that* is—‘Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.’” (Think about the meaning, and the words will come.)

“How she loves finding morals in things!” Alice thought to herself.

After a pause, the Duchess spoke again. “I suppose you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your waist. The reason is that I’m not sure about your flamingo’s temper. Shall I try the experiment?”

“He might bite,” Alice said carefully. She did not want the Duchess to try the experiment at all.

“Very true,” said the Duchess. “Flamingoes and mustard both bite. And the moral of that is—‘Birds of a feather flock together.’” (Mustard is hot, so we say it ‘bites’.)

“Only mustard isn’t a bird,” Alice said.

“Right, as usual,” said the Duchess. “What a clear way you have of putting things!”

“It’s a mineral, I *think*,” said Alice.

“Of course it is,” said the Duchess. She seemed ready to agree with everything Alice said. “There’s a large mustard-mine near here. And the moral of that is—‘The more there is of mine, the less there is of yours.’” (‘Mine’ here means ‘belonging to me’, not a hole in the ground.)

“Oh, I know!” cried Alice. She was not listening to this last remark. “It’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it is.”

“I quite agree with you,” said the Duchess. “And the moral of that is—‘Be what you would seem to be’—or if you’d like it put more simply—‘Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.’”

Alice answered very politely. “I think I would understand that better if I had it written down. But I can’t quite follow it when you say it.”

“That’s nothing to what I could say if I wanted to,” the Duchess said. She sounded pleased.

“Please don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,” said Alice.

“Oh, don’t talk about trouble!” said the Duchess. “I give you everything I’ve said so far as a present.”

“A cheap sort of present!” thought Alice. “I’m glad people don’t give birthday presents like that!” But she did not dare to say it out loud.

“Thinking again?” the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp little chin.

“I have a right to think,” said Alice sharply. She was beginning to feel a little worried.

“Just about as much right,” said the Duchess, “as pigs have to fly. And the m—”

But here Alice got a great surprise. The Duchess’s voice died away, even in the middle of her favourite word ‘moral’. And the arm in Alice’s arm began to shake. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen in front of them. Her arms were folded, and she was frowning like a thunderstorm.

“A fine day, your Majesty!” the Duchess began in a low, weak voice.

“Now, I give you fair warning,” shouted the Queen, and she stamped on the ground. “Either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time! Take your choice!” (‘Be off’ means ‘go away’. Her head could be off too!)

The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.

“Let’s go on with the game,” the Queen said to Alice. Alice was too frightened to say a word. But she slowly followed her back to the croquet-ground.

The other guests used the Queen’s absence to rest in the shade. But the moment they saw her, they hurried back to the game. The Queen only said that one moment’s delay would cost them their lives.

All through the game the Queen never stopped quarrelling with the other players. She kept shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!” The soldiers took these players prisoner. To do this, they had to stop being arches, of course. So after half an hour or so, there were no arches left. All the players were prisoners under sentence of execution. Only the King, the Queen and Alice were not.

Then the Queen stopped. She was quite out of breath. She said to Alice, “Have you seen the Mock Turtle yet?”

“No,” said Alice. “I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.”

“It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,” said the Queen. (Mock Turtle Soup was a cheap soup, not made from turtles.)

“I never saw one, or heard of one,” said Alice.

“Come on, then,” said the Queen, “and he will tell you his history.”

As they walked off together, Alice heard the King. He spoke in a low voice to all the company. “You are all pardoned.” “Come, *that’s* a good thing!” she said to herself. She had felt quite unhappy about all the executions the Queen had ordered.

Very soon they came to a Gryphon, fast asleep in the sun. (A Gryphon is an animal from old stories. It has the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion.) “Up, lazy thing!” said the Queen. “Take this young lady to see the Mock Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see to some executions I have ordered.” She walked off and left Alice alone with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature. But she thought it over. Staying with it was just as safe as going after that savage Queen. So she waited.

The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes. Then it watched the Queen until she was out of sight. Then it laughed quietly. “What fun!” said the Gryphon, half to itself and half to Alice.

“What *is* the fun?” said Alice.

“Why, *she*,” said the Gryphon. “It’s all her fancy, that: they never executes nobody, you know. Come on!”

“Everybody says ‘come on!’ here,” thought Alice, as she went slowly after it. “Nobody ever ordered me about so much in all my life, never!”

They did not go far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance. He was sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock. As they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She felt very sorry for him. “What is his sorrow?” she asked the Gryphon. The Gryphon answered almost in the same words as before. “It’s all his fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!”

So they went up to the Mock Turtle. He looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but he said nothing.

“This here young lady,” said the Gryphon, “she wants for to know your history, she do.”

“I’ll tell it her,” said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow voice. “Sit down, both of you, and don’t speak a word until I’ve finished.”

So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to herself, “I don’t see how he can *ever* finish, if he doesn’t begin.” But she waited patiently.

“Once,” said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, “I was a real Turtle.”

After these words there was a very long silence. Only two sounds broke it. Now and then the Gryphon said “Hjckrrh!” And the Mock Turtle sobbed heavily all the time. Alice nearly got up and said, “Thank you, sir, for your interesting story.” But she felt sure there *must* be more to come. So she sat still and said nothing.

The Mock Turtle went on at last. He was calmer now, but he still sobbed a little now and then. “When we were little, we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—”

“Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?” Alice asked.

“We called him Tortoise because he taught us,” said the Mock Turtle angrily. “Really, you are very dull!” (‘Tortoise’ sounds like ‘taught us’.)

“You should be ashamed of asking such a simple question,” added the Gryphon. Then they both sat silent and looked at poor Alice. She wanted to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, “Drive on, old fellow! Don’t be all day about it!” And he went on with these words:

“Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you may not believe it—”

“I never said I didn’t!” said Alice.

“You did,” said the Mock Turtle.

“Hold your tongue!” added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. The Mock Turtle went on.

“We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day—”

“*I’ve* been to a day-school, too,” said Alice. “You don’t need to be so proud about it.”

“With extras?” asked the Mock Turtle, a little anxiously.

“Yes,” said Alice. “We learned French and music.”

“And washing?” said the Mock Turtle.

“Certainly not!” said Alice angrily.

“Ah! Then yours wasn’t a really good school,” said the Mock Turtle, very relieved. “Now at *ours*, the bill said at the end, ‘French, music, *and washing*—extra.’” (Schools asked for extra money for washing the children’s clothes.)

“You couldn’t have wanted it much,” said Alice. “You lived at the bottom of the sea.”

“I couldn’t afford to learn it,” said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. “I only took the regular course.”

“What was that?” asked Alice.

“Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,” the Mock Turtle said. (These sound like ‘reading’ and ‘writing’.) “And then the different parts of Arithmetic—Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.” (These sound like ‘addition’, ‘subtraction’, ‘multiplication’ and ‘division’.)

“I never heard of ‘Uglification,’” Alice said carefully. “What is it?”

The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. “What! Never heard of uglifying!” it cried. “You know what to beautify is, I suppose?”

“Yes,” said Alice, but she was not sure. “It means—to—make—anything—prettier.”

“Well, then,” the Gryphon went on. “If you don’t know what to uglify is, you *are* a simpleton.”

Alice did not want to ask any more questions about it. So she turned to the Mock Turtle. “What else did you have to learn?” she said.

The Mock Turtle counted off the subjects on his flappers. “Well, there was Mystery—Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography.” (These sound like ‘history’ and ‘geography’.) “Then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel. He used to come once a week. *He* taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.” (These sound like ‘drawing’, ‘sketching’ and ‘painting in oils’.)

“What was *that* like?” said Alice.

“Well, I can’t show it to you myself,” the Mock Turtle said. “I’m too stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.”

“Hadn’t time,” said the Gryphon. “I went to the Classics master, though. He was an old crab, *he* was.”

“I never went to him,” the Mock Turtle said with a sigh. “He taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say.” (These sound like ‘Latin’ and ‘Greek’.)

“So he did, so he did,” said the Gryphon, and it sighed too. Both creatures hid their faces in their paws.

“And how many hours a day did you do lessons?” said Alice. She wanted to change the subject quickly.

“Ten hours the first day,” said the Mock Turtle. “Nine the next, and so on.”

“What a curious plan!” cried Alice.

“That’s the reason they’re called lessons,” the Gryphon said. “Because they lessen from day to day.” (‘Lessen’ means ‘get less’.)

This was quite a new idea to Alice. She thought about it a little before she spoke again. “Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?”

“Of course it was,” said the Mock Turtle.

“And what did you do on the twelfth?” Alice went on eagerly.

“That’s enough about lessons,” the Gryphon said very firmly. “Tell her something about the games now.”

### Glossary

- **camomile**: a bitter plant used for tea.
- **barley-sugar**: a hard sweet.
- **moral**: the lesson in a story.
- **’tis**: an old way of saying “it is”.
- **Birds of a feather flock together**: an old saying: people who are alike stay together.
- **half no time**: the Queen’s way of saying “at once”.
- **pardoned**: told that you will not get the punishment.
- **Mock Turtle Soup**: “mock” means not real. Mock Turtle Soup was a cheap copy of turtle soup.
- **Gryphon**: an animal in stories, with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion.
- **extras**: things at school that cost more money.
- **Reeling**: moving as if you are going to fall.
- **Writhing**: twisting your body in pain.
- **simpleton**: a stupid person.
- **flappers**: the flat legs of a turtle.
- **Drawling**: speaking very slowly.
- **Fainting**: falling down asleep from illness.
- **Coils**: round shapes, like a rope lying in circles. A conger-eel is long and lies like this.
- **Grief**: great sadness.

## CHAPTER X. The Lobster Quadrille

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply. He moved the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice and tried to speak. But for a minute or two sobs choked his voice. “Same as if he had a bone in his throat,” said the Gryphon. It began to shake him and hit him in the back. At last the Mock Turtle found his voice again. Then he went on, with tears running down his cheeks:

“You may not have lived much under the sea—” (“I haven’t,” said Alice.) “—and perhaps nobody ever even introduced you to a lobster—” (Alice began to say “I once tasted—”. She remembered eating one, and quickly stopped. “No, never,” she said.) “—so you can have no idea what a lovely thing a Lobster Quadrille is!”

“No, indeed,” said Alice. “What sort of a dance is it?”

“Why,” said the Gryphon, “first you form a line along the sea-shore—”

“Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle. “Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on. Then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—”

“*That* usually takes some time,” the Gryphon interrupted.

“—you advance twice—”

“Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the Gryphon.

“Of course,” the Mock Turtle said. “Advance twice, set to partners—”

“—change lobsters, and retire in the same order,” the Gryphon went on.

“Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle continued, “you throw the—”

“The lobsters!” shouted the Gryphon. It jumped into the air.

“—as far out to sea as you can—”

“Swim after them!” screamed the Gryphon.

“Turn a somersault in the sea!” cried the Mock Turtle. He danced wildly about.

“Change lobsters again!” shouted the Gryphon as loudly as it could.

“Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,” said the Mock Turtle. His voice was suddenly low. All this time the two creatures were jumping about like mad things. Now they sat down again very sadly and quietly. They looked at Alice.

“It must be a very pretty dance,” said Alice shyly.

“Would you like to see a little of it?” said the Mock Turtle.

“Very much indeed,” said Alice.

“Come, let’s try the first figure!” said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. “We can do without lobsters, you know. Which of us will sing?”

“Oh, *you* sing,” said the Gryphon. “I’ve forgotten the words.”

So they began to dance solemnly round and round Alice. Sometimes they stepped on her toes when they passed too close. They waved their front paws to show the beat of the song. And the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:

> “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail.  
> “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.  
> See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!  
> They are waiting on the stones by the sea—will you come and join the dance?  
> Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?  
> Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
>
> “You can’t think how lovely it will be  
> When they pick us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”  
> But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a side look—  
> He said thank you to the whiting, but he would not join the dance.  
> Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.  
> Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
>
> “Why does it matter how far we go?” his friend with scales replied.  
> “There is another shore, you know, on the other side.  
> The further off from England, the nearer is to France—  
> So don’t go pale, dear snail, but come and join the dance.  
> Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?  
> Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”

“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said Alice. She was very glad that it was over at last. “And I really like that curious song about the whiting!”

“Oh, about the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, “they—you’ve seen them, of course?”

“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at dinn—” She stopped herself quickly. (She nearly said ‘dinner’.)

“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle. “But if you’ve seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.”

“I believe so,” Alice said thoughtfully. “They have their tails in their mouths—and they have crumbs all over them.”

“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle. “Crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they *have* their tails in their mouths, and the reason is—” Here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes. “Tell her about the reason and all that,” he said to the Gryphon.

“The reason is this,” said the Gryphon. “They *would* go with the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.” (Cooks often served whiting like this.)

“Thank you,” said Alice. “It’s very interesting. I never knew so much about a whiting before.”

“I can tell you more than that, if you like,” said the Gryphon. “Do you know why it’s called a whiting?”

“I never thought about it,” said Alice. “Why?”

“*It does the boots and shoes*,” the Gryphon said very solemnly.

Alice was completely puzzled. “Does the boots and shoes!” she repeated in a wondering voice.

“Why, what are *your* shoes done with?” said the Gryphon. “I mean, what makes them so shiny?”

Alice looked down at them and thought a little before she answered. “They’re done with blacking, I believe.”

The Gryphon went on in a deep voice. “Boots and shoes under the sea are done with a whiting. Now you know.” (Blacking makes shoes black. So ‘whiting’ makes them white, and a whiting is a fish!)

“And what are they made of?” Alice asked with great curiosity.

“Soles and eels, of course,” the Gryphon said rather impatiently. “Any shrimp could tell you that.” (Soles are flat fish and the bottoms of shoes. ‘Eels’ sounds like ‘heels’.)

Alice was still thinking about the song. “If I were the whiting, I would speak to the porpoise,” she said. “I would say, ‘Keep back, please: we don’t want *you* with us!’”

“They had to have him with them,” the Mock Turtle said. “No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.”

“Wouldn’t it really?” said Alice in great surprise.

“Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle. “Why, a fish might come to *me* and say he was going on a journey. Then I would say ‘With what porpoise?’”

“Don’t you mean ‘purpose’?” said Alice.

“I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle said in an offended voice. And the Gryphon added, “Come, let’s hear some of *your* adventures.”

“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said Alice a little shyly. “But it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”

“Explain all that,” said the Mock Turtle.

“No, no! The adventures first,” said the Gryphon impatiently. “Explanations take such a terrible time.”

So Alice began to tell them her adventures. She began from the time when she first saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous just at first. That was because the two creatures came so close to her, one on each side. And they opened their eyes and mouths so *very* wide. But she became braver as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet until she got to one part. She told them how she said “*You are old, Father William*” to the Caterpillar. And it all came out different. Then the Mock Turtle took a long breath and said, “That’s very curious.”

“It’s all about as curious as it can be,” said the Gryphon.

“It all came out different!” the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. “I would like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin.” He looked at the Gryphon as if it had some kind of power over Alice.

“Stand up and repeat ‘’*Tis the voice of the sluggard*,’” said the Gryphon.

“How these creatures order me about, and make me repeat lessons!” thought Alice. “I might as well go to school at once.” But she got up and began to repeat it. Her head was very full of the Lobster Quadrille. So she hardly knew what she was saying. And the words came very strange indeed:

> “’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare,  
> ‘You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.’  
> As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose  
> Makes his belt and his buttons neat, and turns out his toes.”
>
> \[Later editions of the book added these lines:  
> When the sand is all dry, he is as happy as a lark,  
> And he talks with no respect about the Shark.  
> But when the sea comes in and sharks are near,  
> His voice is small and shaking.\]

“That’s different from what *I* used to say when I was a child,” said the Gryphon.

“Well, I never heard it before,” said the Mock Turtle. “But it sounds like complete nonsense.”

Alice said nothing. She sat down with her face in her hands. She wondered if anything would *ever* happen in a natural way again.

“I would like somebody to explain it,” said the Mock Turtle.

“She can’t explain it,” said the Gryphon quickly. “Go on with the next verse.”

“But about his toes?” the Mock Turtle went on. “How *could* he turn them out with his nose, you know?”

“It’s the first position in dancing,” Alice said. But the whole thing puzzled her terribly. She really wanted to change the subject.

“Go on with the next verse,” the Gryphon repeated impatiently. “It begins ‘*I passed by his garden*.’”

Alice did not dare to disobey. She felt sure it would all come out wrong. But she went on in a shaking voice:

> “I passed by his garden, and saw, with one eye,  
> How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—”
>
> \[Later editions of the book added these lines:  
> The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,  
> While the Owl had the dish as its share of the food.  
> When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a kind gift,  
> Could put the spoon in its pocket.  
> The Panther took the knife and fork with a growl,  
> And ended the meal—\]

The Mock Turtle stopped her. “What *is* the use of repeating all that stuff? You don’t explain it as you go on! It’s by far the most confusing thing *I* ever heard!”

“Yes, I think you’d better stop,” said the Gryphon. And Alice was only too glad to stop.

“Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?” the Gryphon went on. “Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?”

“Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,” Alice said. She said it so eagerly that the Gryphon was rather offended. “Hm! There’s no explaining what people like! Sing her ‘*Turtle Soup*,’ will you, old fellow?”

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply and began to sing. Sometimes sobs choked his voice. This was the song:

> “Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,  
> Waiting in a hot tureen!  
> Who would not bend down for such good food?  
> Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!  
> Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!  
> Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!  
> Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!  
> Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,  
> Beautiful, beautiful Soup!
>
> “Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,  
> Game, or any other dish?  
> Who would not give all else for two  
> Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?  
> Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?  
> Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!  
> Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!  
> Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,  
> Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!”

“Chorus again!” cried the Gryphon. The Mock Turtle began to repeat it. Just then they heard a cry in the distance: “The trial’s beginning!”

“Come on!” cried the Gryphon. It took Alice by the hand and hurried off. It did not wait for the end of the song.

“What trial is it?” Alice panted as she ran. But the Gryphon only said “Come on!” and ran faster. The light wind behind them carried the sad words, more and more quietly:

> “Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,  
> Beautiful, beautiful Soup!”

### Glossary

- **flapper**: the flat leg of a turtle.
- **sobs**: the sounds you make when you cry very hard.
- **choked**: stopped someone’s voice or breath.
- **Quadrille**: a dance for pairs of people.
- **jelly-fish**: a soft sea animal that you can almost see through.
- **interrupted**: stopped someone who was speaking.
- **advance**: go forward.
- **set to partners**: dance facing your partner.
- **retire**: go back.
- **figure**: one part of a dance.
- **paws**: the feet of an animal.
- **whiting**: a sea fish.
- **snail**: a small, slow animal with a shell.
- **porpoise**: a sea animal like a small dolphin.
- **Dinn**: not a real place. Alice stopped in the middle of the word “dinner”.
- **thoughtfully**: while thinking carefully.
- **crumbs**: very small pieces of bread or cake.
- **blacking**: black polish for shoes.
- **impatiently**: in a way that shows you do not want to wait.
- **offended**: hurt and a little angry because of what someone said.
- **soles**: the bottoms of shoes; also flat fish.
- **eels**: long sea fish, like snakes.
- **heels**: the back parts of feet or shoes.
- **shrimp**: a very small sea animal.
- **purpose**: the reason for doing something.
- **sluggard**: a very lazy person.
- **’Tis**: an old way of saying “it is”.
- **turns out his toes**: points his toes to the sides, as a dancer does.
- **tureen**: a deep dish for soup.
- **Beau**: ootiful Soo—oop** — “Beautiful Soup”, sung very slowly.
- **Game**: wild birds or animals, used as food.
- **Pennyworth**: as much as you can buy for one penny.

## CHAPTER XI. Who Stole the Tarts?

When they arrived, the King and Queen of Hearts were sitting on their throne. A great crowd stood around them. There were all sorts of little birds and animals. The whole pack of cards was there too. The Knave of Hearts stood in front of them, in chains. A soldier stood on each side to guard him. The White Rabbit was near the King. He held a trumpet in one hand. In the other hand he held a scroll of parchment.

In the very middle of the court there was a table. A large dish of tarts stood on it. The tarts looked so good that Alice felt quite hungry.

“I wish they would finish the trial,” she thought, “and give out the food!”

But there seemed to be no chance of this. So she began to look at everything around her, to pass the time.

Alice had never been in a court of justice before. But she had read about courts in books. She was quite pleased, because she knew the name of nearly everything there.

“That’s the judge,” she said to herself, “because of his great wig.”

The judge, by the way, was the King. He wore his crown over his wig. (Try to imagine how he did it!) So he did not look comfortable at all. And the crown certainly did not look nice on him.

“And that’s the jury-box,” thought Alice. “And those twelve creatures—” (She had to say “creatures,” you see, because some were animals and some were birds.) “I suppose they are the jurors.”

She said this last word two or three times to herself. She was rather proud of it. She thought that very few little girls of her age knew its meaning. She was right. But “jury-men” would do just as well.

The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates.

“What are they doing?” Alice whispered to the Gryphon. “They can’t have anything to write yet. The trial hasn’t begun.”

“They’re writing their names,” the Gryphon whispered back. “They are afraid they will forget them before the end of the trial.”

“Stupid things!” Alice began in a loud, angry voice.

But she stopped quickly, because the White Rabbit cried out, “Silence in the court!” The King put on his spectacles and looked nervously round. He wanted to see who was talking.

Alice could see what the jurors were doing. She saw it as well as if she was looking over their shoulders. They were all writing “stupid things!” on their slates. She could even see that one of them did not know how to spell “stupid.” He had to ask his neighbour.

“What a mess their slates will be in before the trial is over!” thought Alice.

One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. Of course, Alice could *not* stand this. She went round the court and got behind him. Very soon she had a chance to take the pencil away. She did it very quickly. So the poor little juror could not understand what had happened to it. (It was Bill the Lizard.) He looked everywhere for it. Then he had to write with one finger for the rest of the day. This was not much use, because it left no mark on the slate.

“Herald, read the accusation!” said the King.

The White Rabbit blew three times on the trumpet. Then he unrolled the parchment scroll, and he read:

> “The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,  
> All on a summer day:  
> The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,  
> And took them quite away!”

“Consider your verdict,” the King said to the jury.

“Not yet, not yet!” the Rabbit interrupted quickly. “There’s a great deal to come before that!”

“Call the first witness,” said the King.

The White Rabbit blew three times on the trumpet. Then he called out, “First witness!”

The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand. In the other hand he had a piece of bread-and-butter.

“I beg your pardon, your Majesty,” he began, “for bringing these in. But I hadn’t quite finished my tea when they sent for me.”

“You ought to have finished,” said the King. “When did you begin?”

The Hatter looked at the March Hare. The March Hare had followed him into the court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse.

“Fourteenth of March, I *think* it was,” said the Hatter.

“Fifteenth,” said the March Hare.

“Sixteenth,” added the Dormouse.

“Write that down,” the King said to the jury.

The jury eagerly wrote all three dates on their slates. Then they added them up. They changed the answer to shillings and pence.

“Take off your hat,” the King said to the Hatter.

“It isn’t mine,” said the Hatter.

“*Stolen!*” cried the King, and he turned to the jury. They wrote this down at once.

“I keep them to sell,” the Hatter explained. “I have none of my own. I’m a hatter.”

Then the Queen put on her spectacles and began to stare at the Hatter. He went pale and moved about nervously.

“Give your evidence,” said the King. “And don’t be nervous, or I’ll have you executed at once.”

This did not seem to help the witness at all. He kept moving from one foot to the other. He looked nervously at the Queen. He was very confused. So he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.

Just at this moment Alice had a very strange feeling. It puzzled her a lot. At last she understood what it was. She was beginning to grow larger again! First she thought she would get up and leave the court. But then she thought again. She decided to stay as long as there was room for her.

“I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so,” said the Dormouse. He was sitting next to her. “I can hardly breathe.”

“I can’t help it,” said Alice very quietly. “I’m growing.”

“You’ve no right to grow *here*,” said the Dormouse.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Alice more bravely. “You know you’re growing too.”

“Yes, but *I* grow at a sensible speed,” said the Dormouse. “Not in that silly way.”

He got up very crossly. He went over to the other side of the court.

All this time the Queen never stopped staring at the Hatter. Just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she spoke to one of the officers.

“Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!” she said.

The unhappy Hatter shook so much that he shook both his shoes off.

“Give your evidence,” the King said again angrily, “or I’ll have you executed. It doesn’t matter if you’re nervous or not.”

“I’m a poor man, your Majesty,” the Hatter began in a shaking voice. “And I hadn’t begun my tea. Not more than a week or so. And the bread-and-butter was getting so thin. And there was the twinkling of the tea—”

“The twinkling of the *what?*” said the King.

“It *began* with the tea,” the Hatter replied.

“Of course twinkling begins with a T!” said the King sharply. (‘Tea’ and the letter ‘T’ sound the same.) “Do you take me for a dunce? Go on!”

“I’m a poor man,” the Hatter went on, “and most things twinkled after that. Only the March Hare said—”

“I didn’t!” the March Hare interrupted very quickly.

“You did!” said the Hatter.

“I deny it!” said the March Hare.

“He denies it,” said the King. “Leave out that part.”

“Well, anyway, the Dormouse said—” the Hatter went on.

He looked round nervously to see if the Dormouse would deny it too. But the Dormouse denied nothing, because he was fast asleep.

“After that,” the Hatter went on, “I cut some more bread-and-butter—”

“But what did the Dormouse say?” one of the jury asked.

“That I can’t remember,” said the Hatter.

“You *must* remember,” said the King, “or I’ll have you executed.”

The unhappy Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter. He went down on one knee.

“I’m a poor man, your Majesty,” he began.

“You’re a *very* poor *speaker*,” said the King. (‘Poor’ can mean ‘without money’ and ‘not good’.)

Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered. The officers of the court suppressed it at once. (That is rather a hard word. So I will explain to you how they did it. They had a large bag of strong cloth. They could tie up the top of it with strings. They put the guinea-pig into this bag, head first. Then they sat on it.)

“I’m glad I’ve seen that,” thought Alice. “I have so often read this in the newspapers, at the end of trials: ‘Some people tried to clap. The officers of the court immediately suppressed this.’ I never understood what it meant until now.”

“If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,” the King went on. (In a court, ‘stand down’ means ‘you can go now’.)

“I can’t go no lower,” said the Hatter. “I’m on the floor already.”

“Then you may *sit* down,” said the King.

Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and the officers suppressed it.

“Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!” thought Alice. “Now we will get on better.”

“I’d rather finish my tea,” said the Hatter. He looked nervously at the Queen, who was reading the list of singers.

“You may go,” said the King.

The Hatter left the court in a hurry. He did not even wait to put his shoes on.

“—and just take his head off outside,” the Queen added to one of the officers.

But the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to the door.

“Call the next witness!” said the King.

The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in her hand. Alice guessed who it was even before she came into the court. She knew because the people near the door all began sneezing at once.

“Give your evidence,” said the King.

“Shan’t,” said the cook.

The King looked nervously at the White Rabbit. The Rabbit said in a low voice, “Your Majesty must cross-examine *this* witness.”

“Well, if I must, I must,” the King said sadly.

He folded his arms and frowned at the cook. He frowned until his eyes were nearly out of sight. Then he said in a deep voice, “What are tarts made of?”

“Pepper, mostly,” said the cook.

“Treacle,” said a sleepy voice behind her.

“Catch that Dormouse!” the Queen screamed. “Behead that Dormouse! Throw that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!”

For some minutes the whole court was in confusion. They all tried to get the Dormouse out. When they were calm again, the cook had disappeared.

“Never mind!” said the King, and he seemed very glad. “Call the next witness.”

Then he spoke quietly to the Queen. “Really, my dear, *you* must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!”

Alice watched the White Rabbit as he looked through the list. She was very curious to see what the next witness would be like.

“—because they haven’t got much evidence *yet*,” she said to herself.

Imagine her surprise! The White Rabbit called out as loudly as he could. His little voice was very high. And the name he read out was “Alice!”

### Glossary

- **herald**: a person who reads out important news for a king.
- **scroll of parchment**: a long roll of old, thick paper.
- **jurors**: the people in a jury. They decide if a person did something wrong.
- **verdict**: the decision: did the person do it or not? It comes first.
- **witness**: a person who tells a court what he or she knows.
- **evidence**: facts or words that show what is true.
- **shillings and pence**: old British money.
- **twinkling**: shining on and off, like a star.
- **dunce**: a stupid person.
- **deny**: to say that something is not true.
- **suppressed**: stopped by force.
- **cross-examine**: to ask a witness hard questions in court.

## CHAPTER XII. Alice’s Evidence

“Here!” cried Alice.

It was an exciting moment. She quite forgot how large she had grown in the last few minutes. She jumped up in a great hurry. So the edge of her skirt tipped over the jury-box. All the jurymen fell on to the heads of the crowd below. They lay there with their arms and legs everywhere. This reminded her very much of a glass bowl of goldfish. She had upset it by accident the week before.

“Oh, I *beg* your pardon!” she cried. She was very upset.

She began to pick them up as quickly as she could. She kept thinking about the accident with the goldfish. She had a kind of idea that she must collect the jurymen at once. She must put them back into the jury-box, or they would die.

“The trial cannot go on,” said the King in a very serious voice. “First all the jurymen must be back in their proper places—*all*.”

He said the last word very strongly, and he looked hard at Alice.

Alice looked at the jury-box. She saw that she had put Bill the Lizard in head downwards. She had been in too much of a hurry. The poor little thing could not move at all. He was waving his tail sadly. She soon got him out and put him the right way up.

“Not that it matters much,” she said to herself. “I think he’s *quite* as much use in the trial either way up.”

The fall was a shock to the jury, but soon they felt a little better. Somebody found their slates and pencils and gave them back. Then they all began to work very busily. They wrote out a history of the accident. Only the Lizard did not write. He seemed too upset to do anything. He just sat with his mouth open and looked up at the roof of the court.

“What do you know about this business?” the King said to Alice.

“Nothing,” said Alice.

“Nothing *whatever?*” the King asked again.

“Nothing whatever,” said Alice.

“That’s very important,” the King said to the jury.

They were just beginning to write this on their slates. But the White Rabbit interrupted them.

“*Un*important, your Majesty means, of course,” he said. His voice was very polite, but he was frowning and making faces at the King.

“*Un*important, of course, I meant,” the King said quickly. Then he went on quietly to himself, “important—unimportant—unimportant—important—” He seemed to be trying which word sounded best.

Some of the jury wrote “important,” and some wrote “unimportant.” Alice could see this, because she was near enough to look over their slates.

“But it doesn’t matter a bit,” she thought to herself.

For some time the King was busily writing in his note-book. At this moment he called out “Silence!” in a high, sharp voice. Then he read from his book, “Rule Forty-two. *All persons more than a mile high to leave the court*.”

Everybody looked at Alice.

“*I’m* not a mile high,” said Alice.

“You are,” said the King.

“Nearly two miles high,” added the Queen.

“Well, I won’t go, anyway,” said Alice. “And that’s not a real rule. You invented it just now.”

“It’s the oldest rule in the book,” said the King.

“Then it ought to be Number One,” said Alice.

The King went pale, and he shut his note-book quickly.

“Consider your verdict,” he said to the jury in a low, shaking voice.

“There’s more evidence to come, please your Majesty,” said the White Rabbit. He jumped up in a great hurry. “Somebody has just picked up this paper.”

“What’s in it?” said the Queen.

“I haven’t opened it yet,” said the White Rabbit. “But it seems to be a letter from the prisoner to—to somebody.”

“It must have been that,” said the King. “Unless he wrote it to nobody. And that isn’t usual, you know.”

“Who is it addressed to?” said one of the jurymen.

“It isn’t addressed at all,” said the White Rabbit. “In fact, there’s nothing written on the *outside*.”

He unfolded the paper as he spoke.

“It isn’t a letter, after all,” he added. “It’s a set of verses.”

“Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?” asked another of the jurymen.

“No, they’re not,” said the White Rabbit, “and that’s the strangest thing about it.” (The jury all looked puzzled.)

“He must have copied somebody else’s handwriting,” said the King. (The jury all looked happier again.)

“Please your Majesty,” said the Knave of Hearts. “I didn’t write it, and they can’t prove I did. There’s no name signed at the end.”

“If you didn’t sign it,” said the King, “that only makes things worse. You *must* have meant to do something bad. An honest man signs his name.”

Everyone clapped at this. It was the first really clever thing the King had said that day.

“That *proves* he did it,” said the Queen.

“It proves nothing of the sort!” said Alice. “Why, you don’t even know what the verses are about!”

“Read them,” said the King.

The White Rabbit put on his spectacles.

“Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?” he asked.

“Begin at the beginning,” the King said seriously. “Go on till you come to the end. Then stop.”

These were the verses the White Rabbit read:

> “They told me you went to her,  
> And talked about me to him:  
> She said that I was good,  
> But said I could not swim.
>
> He told them I had not gone  
> (We know it to be true):  
> If she goes on with this,  
> What will happen to you?
>
> I gave her one, they gave him two,  
> You gave us three or more;  
> They all returned from him to you,  
> But they were mine before.
>
> If I or she should be  
> A part of this, somehow,  
> He trusts you to set them free,  
> As we were before now.
>
> I thought that you had been  
> (Before she had this fit)  
> Something that came between  
> Him, and us, and it.
>
> Don’t let him know she liked them best,  
> For this must always be  
> A secret, kept from all the rest,  
> Between you and me.”

“That’s the most important evidence we’ve heard yet,” said the King. He rubbed his hands. “So now let the jury—”

“If any one of them can explain it,” said Alice, “I’ll give him sixpence.” (She had grown so large in the last few minutes. So she wasn’t a bit afraid of interrupting him.) “*I* don’t believe there’s an atom of meaning in it.”

The jury all wrote on their slates. They wrote, “*She* doesn’t believe there’s an atom of meaning in it.” But none of them tried to explain the paper.

“If there’s no meaning in it,” said the King, “that saves much trouble, you know. We needn’t try to find any. And yet I don’t know.”

He spread out the verses on his knee and looked at them with one eye.

“I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. ‘—*said I could not swim*—’ you can’t swim, can you?” he said to the Knave.

The Knave shook his head sadly.

“Do I look like it?” he said. (He certainly did *not*. He was made entirely of cardboard.)

“All right, so far,” said the King. He went on talking quietly to himself over the verses. “‘*We know it to be true*—’ That’s the jury, of course. ‘*I gave her one, they gave him two*.’ Why, that must be what he did with the tarts, you know—”

“But it goes on ‘*they all returned from him to you*,’” said Alice.

“Why, there they are!” said the King proudly. He pointed to the tarts on the table. “Nothing can be clearer than *that*. Then again—‘*before she had this fit*—’” He turned to the Queen. “You never had fits, my dear, I think?”

“Never!” said the Queen very angrily, and she threw an inkstand at the Lizard. (Poor little Bill had stopped writing on his slate with one finger. He stopped because it made no mark. But now he quickly began again. He used the ink that was running down his face, as long as it lasted.)

“Then the words don’t *fit* you,” said the King. He looked round the court with a smile.

There was a dead silence.

“It’s a pun!” the King added in a hurt voice. (‘Fit’ means a sudden attack of anger, and also ‘be right for’.)

And everybody laughed.

“Let the jury consider their verdict,” the King said. He said this for about the twentieth time that day.

“No, no!” said the Queen. “Sentence first—verdict afterwards.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said Alice loudly. “The idea of having the sentence first!”

“Hold your tongue!” said the Queen, and she turned purple.

“I won’t!” said Alice.

“Off with her head!” the Queen shouted as loudly as she could.

Nobody moved.

“Who cares for you?” said Alice. (She had grown to her full size by this time.) “You’re nothing but a pack of cards!”

At this the whole pack rose up into the air. The cards came flying down on her. She gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger. She tried to beat them off. Then she found that she was lying on the bank. Her head was in her sister’s lap. Her sister was gently brushing some dead leaves away from her face. They had fallen from the trees.

“Wake up, Alice dear!” said her sister. “Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!”

“Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!” said Alice.

She told her sister all these strange Adventures of hers. She told them as well as she could remember them. You have just been reading about them. When she finished, her sister kissed her.

“It *was* a curious dream, dear, certainly,” said her sister. “But now run in to your tea. It’s getting late.”

So Alice got up and ran off. While she ran, she thought what a wonderful dream it had been. And she was right to think so.

But her sister sat still, just as Alice left her. She leaned her head on her hand and watched the setting sun. She thought of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures. At last she too began to dream, in a way. This was her dream:

First, she dreamed of little Alice herself. Once again the tiny hands lay together on her knee. The bright eager eyes were looking up into hers. She could hear the very sound of her voice. She could see that strange little movement of her head. Alice threw her head back like this to keep back her wandering hair. That hair *would* always get into her eyes. Her sister listened, or seemed to listen. And the whole place around her came alive. It was full of the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream.

The long grass moved at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by. The frightened Mouse splashed his way through the pool nearby. She could hear the rattle of the teacups. The March Hare and his friends were sharing their never-ending meal. She could hear the high, sharp voice of the Queen. The Queen was sending her unlucky guests away to their execution. Once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee. Plates and dishes crashed around it. Once more the air was full of sounds. There was the scream of the Gryphon and the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate-pencil. There was the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs. And mixed with these were the distant sobs of the unhappy Mock Turtle.

So she sat on with closed eyes, and she half believed she was in Wonderland. But she knew that she only had to open her eyes. Then everything would change to dull real life. The grass would only be moving in the wind. The pool would only be moving as the reeds waved. The rattling teacups would change to ringing sheep-bells. The Queen’s high cries would change to the voice of the shepherd boy. The baby’s sneeze and the Gryphon’s scream would change too, she knew. So would all the other strange noises. They would change to the confused noise of the busy farm-yard. The cattle would call in the distance. That sound would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.

Lastly, she imagined this same little sister in the future. One day she would be a grown woman. She would keep the simple and loving heart of her childhood. She would keep it through all her older years. She would gather other little children around her. She would make *their* eyes bright and eager with many strange stories. Perhaps she would even tell them the dream of Wonderland of long ago. She would feel all their simple sorrows. She would find pleasure in all their simple joys. And she would remember her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

### THE END

### Glossary

- **tipped over**: made something fall on its side.
- **jurymen**: the people in a jury. They decide if a person did something wrong.
- **goldfish**: a small orange fish, often kept in a glass bowl.
- **pardon**: “I beg your pardon” means “I am sorry”.
- **head downwards**: with the head at the bottom.
- **waving**: moving from side to side.
- **busily**: in a busy way, doing a lot of work.
- **interrupted**: stopped someone who was speaking.
- **polite**: speaking or acting with good manners.
- **frowning**: making an unhappy or angry face.
- **unimportant**: not important.
- **addressed**: with a name on the outside, to show who a letter is for.
- **unfolded**: opened something that was folded.
- **handwriting**: the way a person writes by hand.
- **copied**: made something the same as something else.
- **sixpence**: an old British coin.
- **atom**: a very, very small part of something.
- **tarts**: small pies with fruit or jam.
- **inkstand**: a small holder for ink.
- **fit**: a sudden attack of anger or illness; also, to be right for.
- **pun**: a joke with a word that has two meanings.
- **verdict**: the decision: did the person do it or not? It comes first.
- **sentence**: the punishment. It comes after the verdict.
- **teacups**: cups for drinking tea.
- **sobs**: the sounds you make when you cry very hard.
- **reeds**: tall plants like grass that grow in water.
- **shepherd**: a person who looks after sheep.