A book is a very quiet thing, especially on a hot afternoon, when the grass smells of dust, and the river moves as slowly as spilled syrup.
On just such an afternoon, a young girl named Alice sat on a grassy bank, leaning against her older sister's shoulder. She peeked over at the pages her sister was reading, but there were no drawings in the volume, and not a single line of conversation.
Alice thought, with a sigh that felt as heavy as the summer air, that a book without pictures or voices was hardly worth the effort of keeping one's eyes open.
The heat made her feel delightfully sleepy and hopelessly dull. She was just beginning to wonder if the pleasure of weaving a chain of daisies was worth the trouble of standing up to gather them, when something entirely extraordinary occurred. A rabbit with pink eyes and fur as white as fresh milk, screed right past her.
Now, in the countryside of England, where this story was first told over a century and a half ago, and where people have always loved tales of hidden worlds just beneath the soil, a rabbit is a common sight. Had the creature merely screed into the bushes, Alice would have gone back to her day dream.
But this particular rabbit did not behave like a proper English bunny. It stopped. It reached into its waist coat pocket. It pulled out an elegant pocket watch, stared anxiously at the dial, and muttered that it was terribly, dreadfully late.
Alice sat up straight. Her sleepiness vanished like morning mist. She had never in her life seen a rabbit wear a waist coat, let alone possess a watch to tuck inside it.
Driven by a sudden burning curiosity, she scrambled to her feet and chased the white rabbit across the meadow. She was just in time to see him pop down a large hole beneath a thick hedge.
Without pausing to think about how she might ever get back out, Alice plunged in after him.
The rabbit hole did not slope downward like a normal tunnel. It plunged straight down, so suddenly that Alice had no time to stop herself before she found she was falling.
Yet, it was the strangest fall imaginable. She did not plunge like a stone. Instead, she drifted downward, as if she were a feather, floating through a very deep, very slow well.
As she drifted, she realized the sides of the well were not made of rough dirt, but were lined with cupboards, bookshelves, and pegs for coats. Here and there, she passed maps and framed paintings hanging on the walls. She even managed to snatch a jar from a shelf as she floated past.
The label read orange marmalade, but to her great disappointment, the jar was entirely empty. Not wanting to drop it and hurt anyone below, she managed to tuck it neatly into another cupboard as she drifted lower and lower.
Down, down, down she went. Would the fall ever come to an end? She began to wonder if she might fall right through the center of the earth and come out on the other side, where people walked with their feet pointing upward toward the sky.
That would be quite awkward, she decided, and she was glad there was no one around to hear her voice as she rehearsed her polite introductions to these upside down strangers.
Just as she was beginning to feel she might drift off to sleep right there in midair, her feet met a heap of dry leaves and twigs with a soft, dry thud.
The fall was over. Alice jumped to her feet and looked up, but all was dark above. Ahead of her was another long passage, and far down it, she could see the white rabbit scurrying away, still whispering about how late his ears and whiskers were getting.
Alice ran after him like the wind. She turned a corner, and the rabbit vanished.
She found herself standing in a long, low hall, lit by a row of lamps hanging from the ceiling. There were doors on every side, but when Alice went from one to the other, trying the handles, she found every single one of them was locked.
She stood in the middle of the hall, wondering how she would ever get home again, feeling very small, very lonely, and very much out of her depth.
As Alice searched the hall, her eyes fell upon a small table made of solid clear glass. On top of it, lay nothing but a tiny key made of bright gold. She took it up eagerly and tried it in every lock along the walls.
Alas, either the locks were far too large, or the key was far too small. It would not open a single one of them.
On her second turn around the room, however, she noticed a low curtain she had missed before. Behind it was a tiny door, no more than 15 inches high.
Alice slipped the golden key into the lock, and to her delight, it fitted perfectly. She opened the door and knelt down to look through it. It led into a passage no larger than a mouse hole.
Peering through, Alice saw the most beautiful garden she had ever imagined. There were beds of cool, bright flowers and sparkling fountains of water. She longed to leave the dark hall and wander among those flowers, but her head would not even fit through the doorway.
And even if her head would go through, she thought sadly, it would be of little use without her shoulders. "Oh, how I wish I could fold up like a telescope," she said aloud.
Turning back to the glass table, she hoped she might find another key, or perhaps a book of instructions for folding people up. Instead, she found a small glass bottle that had certainly not been there a moment before.
Tied around the neck of the bottle was a paper label with the words drink me beautifully printed on it in large letters.
Alice was a sensible girl. She did not drink it immediately. She checked the bottle carefully to see if it had a picture of a skull and crossbones or the word poison written anywhere. For she knew that if you drink too much from a bottle marked poison, it is almost certain to disagree with you sooner or later.
Finding no such warning, she took a tiny sip. It was absolutely delicious. It tasted like a combination of cherry tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast.
Alice drank it all down. "What a curious feeling," she gasped. "I am folding up indeed." And so she was. She began to shrink rapidly, smaller and smaller, until she was only 10 inches tall.
Her face lit up with joy. She was now just the right size to go through the little door into the garden. But when she reached the door, she realized with a pang of dismay that she had left the golden key on top of the glass table.
She ran back to get it, but the table was now far too high for her to reach. She could see the key clearly through the glass, but when she tried to climb up one of the table legs, she found it far too slippery.
After trying until she was exhausted, the poor little girl sat down on the floor and wept. "Come, there is no use in crying like that," Alice said to herself, rather sharply.
She often gave herself excellent advice, though she seldom followed it. And sometimes she scolded herself so severely that she brought tears to her own eyes.
Soon, her gaze fell upon a little box of dark wood lying under the table. She opened it and found a very small cake with the words eat me written beautifully in currents.
"Well, I shall eat it," Alice decided. "If it makes me larger, I can reach the key. If it makes me smaller, I can creep under the door. Either way, I shall get into the garden."
She took a small bite and waited anxiously, holding her hand to the top of her head to feel which way she was growing. To her surprise, she remained exactly the same size.
But when she finished the rest of the cake, she began to expand. "Goodbye, feet!" she cried, looking down at her boots, which seemed to be traveling miles away from her.
"Oh, my poor little feet, who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now? I shall be much too far away to bother." In a matter of seconds, Alice was 9 ft tall.
Her head bumped against the ceiling of the hall. She quickly snatched up the golden key and ran to the garden door. But now she was so enormous that she could do nothing but lie down on her side and peer into the garden with one eye.
She was more trapped than ever. Overcome by frustration and confusion, Alice began to cry again. But these were no ordinary tears. Since she was now a giant, her tears were the size of buckets.
She wept and wept until a large pool of water, about 4 inches deep, covered half the floor of the hall.
Suddenly, she heard a pattering of feet in the distance. She dried her eyes and saw the white rabbit returning, splendidly dressed in a clean pair of white gloves and holding a large fan. He was still muttering about the queen and how angry she would be if he kept her waiting.
Alice, desperate for help, spoke in a quiet, polite voice. "If you please, sir?" The rabbit started violently. He dropped his gloves and his fan and scurried away into the darkness as fast as his legs could carry him.
Alice sighed and picked up the fan and gloves. The hall was very hot, so she began to fan herself as she walked about. "Dear me," she thought, "how strange everything is today.
I wonder if I have been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? But if I am not the same, the question is, who in the world am I? That is the great puzzle."
As she spoke, she looked down at her hands and was astonished to see that she had slipped one of the rabbit's tiny gloves onto her hand. "How had she managed that?" She looked down at herself and realized she was shrinking again, and very quickly indeed.
She dropped the fan just in time to avoid shrinking out of existence altogether, and found herself to be about 2 ft tall and falling backward.
With a sudden splash, she was up to her chin in salty water. At first, she thought she had fallen into the ocean, but she quickly realized the truth. She was swimming in the giant pool of tears she had wept when she was 9 ft tall.
"I wish I hadn't cried so much," Alice gasped, splashing about to keep afloat. "I shall be drowned in my own tears now. That will be a very strange thing to be sure."
Just then, she heard something splashing in the pool near her. It was a mouse that had slipped in, and soon there were other creatures too: a duck, a dodo, an eaglet, and several other curious animals.
Alice led the way, and the whole wet company swam to the shore of the pool, scrambling out onto the dry floor, cold, dripping, and thoroughly miserable.
To get dry, the strange assembly of animals held what they called a caucus race. There were no tracks, and everyone started running whenever they liked and stopped when they pleased.
After half an hour of running in circles, everyone was warm and dry. The dodo declared that everyone had won, and Alice had to present them all with prizes, which she managed by handing out a pocket full of sugar-coated treats she found in her apron.
Soon, the animals drifted away, leaving Alice alone once more. She wandered through the woods of this strange country, still searching for a way to return to her normal size and find her way into the beautiful garden.
As she walked through a clearing, she came upon a large mushroom, about the same height as herself. She crept on tiptoe and looked over the edge. Sitting on top of the mushroom, with its arms folded, was a large blue caterpillar, quietly smoking a long, elegant pipe called a hookah.
For some time, the caterpillar and Alice looked at each other in silence. At last, the caterpillar took the pipe out of its mouth and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. "Who are you?" said the caterpillar.
This was not an easy question to answer. "I I hardly know, sir, just at present," Alice replied, rather shyly. "At least, I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
"What do you mean by that?" said the caterpillar sternly. "Explain yourself." "I cannot explain myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Alice, "because I am not myself, you see." "I do not see," said the caterpillar.
"I'm afraid I cannot put it more clearly," Alice replied politely. "For I cannot understand it myself to begin with. And being so many different sizes in one day is very confusing indeed." "It is not," said the caterpillar.
Alice felt her temper rising. The caterpillar was being exceedingly rude and unhelpful. She turned to walk away. But the caterpillar called after her, "Come back. I have something important to say."
This sounded promising, so Alice returned. "Keep your temper," said the caterpillar. "Is that all?" said Alice, trying to swallow her annoyance. "No," said the caterpillar.
For some minutes, it puffed away at its pipe without speaking. At last, it unfolded its arms, took the pipe out of its mouth, and said, "So, you think you're changed, do you?"
"I'm afraid I am, sir," Alice said. "I can't remember things I used to know, and I don't stay the same size for 10 minutes together."
The caterpillar crawled down off the mushroom and began to slither away into the grass. As it went, it remarked, "One side of the mushroom will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter."
"One side of what? The other side of what?" Alice thought, looking at the perfectly round mushroom. "Of the mushroom," said the caterpillar, as if it had read her mind, and then it vanished into the tall weeds.
Alice stood looking at the mushroom for a minute, trying to work out which were the two sides. She stretched her arms around it as far as they would go, and broke off a small piece of the edge with each hand.
Now, she held a piece of the right side in her right hand, and a piece of the left side in her left hand. She took a tiny bite of the right hand piece to see what would happen. In an instant, she felt a violent blow under her chin.
It had struck her foot. Her neck had stretched out like a giant stalk, leaving her head high above the trees, while her body remained far below. A terrified pigeon mistook her long neck for a snake and began to fly around her head, screaming and pecking at her.
It took Alice some time to reassure the pigeon that she was a little girl and not a serpent, and even longer to manage to take a tiny nibble of the other piece of mushroom.
Slowly, carefully, biting first from one hand and then from the other, she succeeded in bringing herself down to her ordinary height. "Well, that is one step accomplished," she said, pocketing the remaining pieces of mushroom.
"But here is the rule of this place. There are no rules at all, only very serious nonsense. I must keep my wits about me if I am to find my way."
Alice walked on through the forest until she came to a small clearing. There stood a house, not very large, with a chimney shaped like a helmet and a roof tiled with plates.
Outside the door, a fish in a livery coat was delivering an invitation to a frog, who was also dressed as a servant. Alice knocked, but the frog servant told her there was no use in knocking, as he was on the same side of the door as she was.
And besides, there was a great deal of noise going on inside. And indeed there was, an extraordinary howling and sneezing, and every now and then, a great crash, as if plates and dishes were being smashed to pieces.
Finding the door unlocked, Alice opened it and walked in. She found herself in a small, smoky kitchen. The Duchess sat on a three-legged stool in the middle of the room, nursing a baby that was howling at the top of its lungs.
The cook was standing over a massive kettle, stirring soup that seemed to be absolutely full of pepper. The air was so thick with it that Alice began to sneeze violently, as did the baby, though the cook and the Duchess did not seem to notice.
But the most peculiar thing in the kitchen was a large cat, which sat on the hearth, grinning from ear to ear. "Would you please tell me," Alice asked politely, between sneezes, "why your cat grins like that?" "It's a Cheshire cat," said the Duchess, "and that's why."
"I didn't know Cheshire cats always grinned," Alice said. "In fact, I didn't know cats could grin." "They all can," said the Duchess, "and most of them do."
Suddenly, the cook began throwing everything within reach at the Duchess and the baby. Saucepans, plates, and platters flew through the air. The Duchess did not seem to mind at all, even when a frying pan grazed her nose.
She began to sing a rather rough lullaby to the baby, giving it a violent shake at the end of every line. At last, the Duchess threw the baby into Alice's arms, saying she had to go play croquet with the queen, and swept out of the room.
Alice carried the poor, howling baby out into the fresh air of the forest. "If I don't take this child away," she thought, "they're sure to kill it in a day or two." But as she looked down at the child, she noticed its nose was turning up remarkably, and its eyes were getting very small for a baby.
It let out a strange grunting noise. Alice looked closely into its face. There was no doubt about it. The baby had turned into a small gray pig.
Feeling rather bewildered, Alice set the little creature down, and it trotted quietly away into the woods. "Well," Alice said to herself, "it would have made a very ugly child, but it makes a rather handsome pig, I think."
She turned around, and there, sitting on a branch of a birch tree, just a few feet away, was the Cheshire cat. Alice was rather startled, but she addressed it gently. "Cheshire puss," she began. "Would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal 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, as an explanation. "Oh, you're sure to do that," said the cat, "if you only walk long enough." Alice felt this was undeniable, so she tried another question. "What sort of people live about here?"
"In that direction," the cat said, waving its right paw, "lives a hatter. And in that direction," waving its other paw, "lives a March hare. Visit either you like. They're both mad."
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked. "Oh, you can't help that," said the cat, with a wide, soft purr. "We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" asked Alice. "You must be," said the cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." Alice did not think this proved anything at all, but she asked, "And how do you know that you are mad?"
"To begin with," said the cat, "a dog's not mad. You grant that?" "I suppose so," said Alice. "Well then," the cat continued, "you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now, I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore, I'm mad."
"I call it purring, not growling," said Alice. "Call it what you like," said the cat. "Are you playing croquet with the queen today?" "I should like it very much," said Alice, "but I haven't been invited yet."
"You'll see me there," said the cat, and vanished. Alice was not much surprised by this, as she was getting used to strange things happening. But while she was looking at the branch where it had been, the cat suddenly reappeared.
"By the way, what became of the baby?" the cat asked. "I forgot to inquire." "It turned into a pig," Alice answered, quite naturally. "I thought it would," said the cat, and vanished again.
Alice waited a minute, half expecting it to appear once more, and when it did not, she began to walk in the direction of the March hare's house. "I've seen hatters before," she said to herself. "The March hare will be much more interesting. And perhaps, because it's May, he won't be quite as mad as he is in March."
As she spoke, she looked up, and there was the cat again, sitting on another branch. "Did you say pig or fig?" asked the cat. "I said pig," replied Alice, rather loudly. "And I wish you wouldn't keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly. It makes one quite giddy."
"All right," said the cat. And this time, it vanished quite slowly. It began with the tip of its tail, and ended with the grin, which remained for some time after the rest of it had gone.
"Well," thought Alice, "I have often seen a cat without a grin, but a grin without a cat? It's the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life."
A short walk brought Alice to the house of the March hare. She knew she had found the right place, because the chimneys were shaped like ears, and the roof was thatched with fur.
Under a large tree in front of the house, a table was set out, and the March hare and the hatter were having tea. Between them sat a dormouse, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it and talking over its head.
"Very uncomfortable for the dormouse," thought Alice. "But as it's asleep, I suppose it doesn't mind." The table was very large, but the three of them were all crowded together at one corner.
When they saw Alice coming, they cried out together, "No room, no room!" "There's plenty of room," Alice said indignantly, and she sat down in a large armchair at one end of the table.
The March hare looked at her with wide eyes. "Have some wine," he said in an encouraging tone. Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. "I don't see any wine," she remarked. "There isn't any," said the March hare.
"Then it wasn't very polite of you to offer it," said Alice angrily. "It wasn't very polite of you to sit down without being invited," said the March hare. "I didn't know it was your table," said Alice. "It's laid for a great many more than three."
The hatter had been watching Alice with great curiosity. Now, he pulled his watch out of his pocket, looked at it anxiously, shook it, and held it to his ear. "What day of the month is it?" he asked Alice.
Alice thought for a moment. "The fourth," she said. "Two days wrong," sighed the hatter. He looked angrily at the March hare. "I told you butter wouldn't suit the works." "It was the best butter," the March hare replied meekly.
"Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well," the hatter grumbled. "You shouldn't have put it in with the bread knife." Alice took the watch and looked at it. It was a most uncommon watch. It told the day of the month, but it did not tell the hour of the day.
"What a strange watch," she said. "It tells the day, but not what o'clock it is." "Why should it?" muttered the hatter. "Does your watch tell you what year it is?" "Of course not," Alice replied. "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 thoroughly puzzled. The hatter's remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, 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, and he poured a little hot tea onto its nose. The dormouse shook its head impatiently and murmured, "Of course, of course, just what I was going to remark myself," without opening its eyes.
"Have you solved the riddle yet?" the hatter asked, turning to Alice. "No, I give up," Alice said. "What's the answer?" "I haven't the slightest idea," said the hatter. "Nor I," said the March hare.
Alice sighed. "I think you might do something better with your time than wasting it asking riddles that have no answers." "If you knew time as well as I do," said the hatter, "you wouldn't talk about wasting him.
It's him, you know. We quarrelled last March, just before he went mad, you know," pointing his teaspoon at the March hare. "It was at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts. I had to sing, and I had hardly finished the first verse when the queen bawled out, 'He's murdering the time! Off with his head!'"
"How dreadfully cruel!" exclaimed Alice. "And ever since then," the hatter continued in a mournful tone, "time won't do a thing I ask. It's always 6 o'clock now." A bright idea came into Alice's head. "Is that why there are so many tea things laid out here?"
"Yes, that's it," said the hatter with a sigh. "It's always tea time, and we've no time to wash the things between whiles." "Then you keep moving around the table, I suppose?" Alice asked. "Exactly so," said the hatter, "as the things get used up."
"But what happens when you come to the beginning again?" Alice ventured to ask. "Suppose we change the subject," the March hare interrupted, yawning. "I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story."
"I'm afraid I don't know one," Alice said, feeling a little nervous. "Then the dormouse shall!" they both cried. "Wake up, dormouse!" And they pinched it on both sides at once.
The dormouse slowly opened its eyes. "I wasn't asleep," it said, in a hoarse, feeble voice. "I heard every word you fellows were saying." "Tell us a story," said the March hare. "Yes, please do," pleaded Alice.
"Once upon a time," the dormouse began in a great hurry, "there were three little sisters, and they lived at the bottom of a well." "What did they live on?" asked Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.
"They lived on treacle," said the dormouse, after thinking for a minute. "They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice remarked gently. "They'd have been ill." "So they were," said the dormouse. "Very ill."
Alice tried to understand how three sisters could live in a well of treacle, but the more she asked, the more confusing the answers became. The hatter kept making rude remarks, and the March hare kept offering her tea that he hadn't poured.
At last, Alice could bear it no longer. She got up in great disgust and walked away. The dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others noticed her leaving. Though she looked back once or twice, hoping they might call her back.
The last she saw of them, they were trying to push the poor dormouse head first into the teapot. "At any rate, I shall never go there again," Alice said, as she picked her way through the wood. "It's the stupidest tea party I ever was at in all my life."
Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading right into its trunk. "How curious!" she thought. "But everything is curious today. I think I may as well go in."
She stepped through the tree door, and found herself, to her great surprise, once again in the long hall of doors, close to the little glass table.
"This time, I shall manage better," she said. She took the golden key and unlocked the tiny door. Then, she took a small bite of the mushroom from her pocket until she was about 12 inches high. She slipped through the narrow passage, and at last, she stepped out into the beautiful garden with its cool fountains and bright, sweet flowers.
As Alice entered the garden, she saw three gardeners busy at work. They were shaped exactly like playing cards, flat and rectangular, with their hands and feet coming out of the corners. They were painted with the suit of spades, and they were in a great hurry, using paint brushes to color a white rose bush with bright red paint.
"Would you please tell me," Alice asked, walking up to them, "why are you painting those roses?" The gardeners looked at each other nervously. "You see, miss," the one named Two said, "this was meant to be a red rose tree, but we planted a white one by mistake. If the queen finds out, she'll have all our heads cut off, she will. So we're doing our best to color them before she comes."
Just then, a loud shout echoed through the garden. "The queen! The queen!" cried the card gardeners. They immediately threw themselves flat on their faces, their backs facing upward.
Alice heard the sound of many footsteps, and stood her ground, eager to see the royal procession. First came 10 soldiers, carrying clubs, shaped like the gardeners. Then came 10 courtiers, decorated all over with diamonds. After them came the royal children, skipping hand in hand, decorated with hearts.
Next came the guests, mostly kings and queens from other decks, and among them Alice recognized the white rabbit, who was talking in a hurried, nervous whisper, and did not notice her.
Finally, in the center of the crowd, marched the King and Queen of Hearts. When the procession came opposite Alice, they all stopped and stared at her. "Who is this?" the queen asked majestically, turning to the knave of hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply.
"What is your name, child?" the queen asked Alice, her eyes flashing. "My name is Alice, so please your majesty," Alice replied very politely. But she added to herself, "Why, they're only a pack of cards after all. I needn't be afraid of them."
The queen then looked down at the three gardeners lying on the ground. Since their backs were facing up, and all cards look alike from the back, she could not tell who they were. "Turn them over!" she commanded the knave. The knave did so, with one foot.
"What have you been doing here?" the queen demanded, looking at the half-painted roses. "May it please your majesty," began Two, falling to his knees. "We were trying-" "I see!" roared the queen, who had been inspecting the red paint. "Off with their heads!"
The soldiers immediately took the three gardeners into custody, and the queen turned to Alice. "Can you play croquet?" she bellowed. "Yes!" shouted Alice. "Come on then!" the queen roared, and the procession swept forward, with Alice joining in at the back.
The croquet ground was the most extraordinary Alice had ever seen. It was all ridges and furrows instead of smooth grass. The croquet balls were live hedgehogs, and the mallets were live flamingos. The hoops were made by the playing card soldiers, who had to stand on their hands and feet and arch their backs over the court.
The game began immediately, but it was in a state of absolute chaos. The players all played at once, without waiting for their turns, and they kept fighting over the hedgehogs. The flamingos were very difficult to manage.
Just as Alice had tucked her flamingo's body under her arm and lined up its neck to strike, the bird would twist its head around and look up into her face with such a puzzled expression that she could not help laughing.
Furthermore, whenever Alice was ready to hit her hedgehog, it would unroll itself and quietly crawl away. And the soldiers who served as hoops were constantly standing up and walking to other parts of the field.
The queen was in a state of constant, furious motion, stamping about and shouting, "Off with his head!" or "Off with her head!" about once every minute. Alice began to feel very uneasy. She had not yet had a dispute with the queen, but she knew it might happen at any moment.
And then she thought, "What would become of me? They are dreadfully fond of beheading people here. The only wonder is that there's anyone left alive." She looked around for a way to escape, and noticed a curious appearance in the air.
At first, she could not make out what it was, but after watching it for a minute, she recognized it as a grin. "It's the Cheshire cat," she said to herself. "Now I shall have somebody to talk to." "How are you getting on?" said the cat, as soon as its mouth was formed enough to speak.
Alice waited until the eyes appeared, and then nodded. "I don't think they play fairly at all," she complained in a whisper. "They all fight so dreadfully, and they don't seem to have any rules. And you have no idea how difficult it is with everything being alive."
"How do you like the queen?" the cat asked quietly. "Not at all," Alice said. "She's so extremely-" Just then, she noticed the queen was standing right behind her, listening. "Likely to win," Alice finished quickly, "that it's hardly worth finishing the game."
The queen smiled and passed on. Soon, the king came up to where they were standing, and stared at the cat's head, which was now fully formed, though the rest of its body was nowhere to be seen. "Who are you talking to?" the king asked, looking highly suspicious.
"It's a friend of mine," Alice said. "A Cheshire cat." "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," the cat remarked. "Don't be impertinent," said the king, shielding himself behind Alice.
He called out to the queen, "My dear, I wish you would have this cat removed." The queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. "Off with his head!" she shouted, without even looking round.
The executioner was called, but a great argument arose immediately. The executioner argued that you couldn't cut off a head unless there was a body to cut it off from. He had never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at his time of life.
The king argued that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you weren't to talk nonsense. The queen argued that if something wasn't done about it in less than no time, she would have everybody in the garden executed.
Alice could think of only one way to help. "The cat belongs to the Duchess," she said. "You'd better ask her about it." "She's in prison," the queen told the executioner. "Go fetch her!"
But before the Duchess could be brought, the cat's head began to fade away. By the time the executioner returned, it had vanished completely, leaving the court to search the grass in vain.
Before Alice could wonder what would happen next, a great shout of, "The trial is beginning!" arose in the distance, and everyone ran toward a great hall. Alice followed the crowd, and found herself in a crowded courtroom.
The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their thrones, surrounded by a great crowd of birds, beasts, and the whole deck of cards. In the center of the court, stood the knave of hearts, bound in chains, with a soldier on either side to guard him.
Near him was the white rabbit, holding a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the middle of the room was a table, on which sat a large dish of tarts. They looked so delicious that they made Alice quite hungry.
"I wish they'd get the trial finished," she thought, "and hand around the refreshments." The 12 jurors were all writing busily on slates. "What are they doing?" Alice whispered to the Gryphon, a strange creature that had sat down beside her. "They can't have anything to put down yet, before the trial has even begun."
"They're writing down their names," the Gryphon whispered back, "for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial." "Stupid things!" Alice said aloud. Immediately, the white rabbit blew his trumpet, and called out, "Silence in the court!"
The king put on his spectacles and looked all round to see who was talking. Alice noticed that the jurors were all writing down stupid things on their slates. She could see that one of them did not know how to spell stupid, and had to ask his neighbor. "What a mess those slates will be in before the trial is over!" she thought.
"Herald, read the accusation!" the king commanded. The white rabbit blew three blasts on his trumpet, unrolled his parchment, and read aloud. "The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer day. The knave of hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them clean away."
"Call the first witness!" said the king. The first witness was the hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand, and a piece of bread and butter in the other. "I beg pardon, your majesty," he said, "for bringing these in, but I hadn't quite finished my tea when I was sent for."
"You ought to have finished," said the king. "When did you begin?" The hatter looked at the March hare, who had followed him into the court, arm in arm with the dormouse. "14th of March, I think," he said. "15th," said the March hare. "16th," said the dormouse.
"Write that down!" the king said to the jury, and the jurors eagerly wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, turning the sum into shillings and pence. As Alice watched this nonsense, she felt a very curious sensation. She was beginning to grow again.
At first, she thought she ought to leave the court, but she decided to stay as long as there was room for her. "Take off your hat!" the king said to the hatter. "It isn't mine," said the hatter. "Stolen!" the king exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly wrote it down.
"I keep them to sell," the hatter explained. "I've none of my own. I'm a hatter." Here, the queen put on her spectacles, and stared hard at the hatter, who began to tremble so violently that he shook both his shoes off.
"Give your evidence!" said the king. "And don't be nervous, or I'll have you executed on the spot." This did not seem to encourage the witness at all. He kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the queen, and in his confusion, he took a large bite out of his teacup instead of his bread and butter.
Just then, Alice felt another jolt of growth. She was now so large that she squeezed the Gryphon next to her, and the dormouse, who was sitting on her other side, complained that he could not breathe. "I can't help it!" Alice said. "I'm growing!"
"You've no right to grow here!" said the dormouse. "Don't talk nonsense!" Alice said. "You're growing too!" "Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace," said the dormouse. "Not in that ridiculous fashion." And he got up and walked to the other side of the court.
Meanwhile, the hatter was dismissed. "And just cut his head off outside!" the queen added to one of the officers. But the hatter ran out of the court so fast that the officer was left far behind. "Call the next witness!" roared the king.
The next witness was the Duchess's cook, who carried her pepper box in her hand. Even before she reached the stand, the people near the door began sneezing. "Give your evidence!" said the king. "Shan't!" said the cook.
The king looked uneasily at the white rabbit, who whispered, "Your majesty must cross-examine this witness." "Well, if I must, I must," said the king, folding his arms and frowning at the cook until his eyes were nearly out of sight. "What are tarts made of?" "Pepper, mostly," said the cook.
"Treacle," said a sleepy voice behind her. "Color that dormouse!" the queen shrieked. "Behead that dormouse! Turn him out of court! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!" For some minutes, the court was in a state of wild confusion, as the dormouse was chased and thrown out.
When order was restored, the cook had vanished. "Never mind," said the king. "Call the next witness!" The white rabbit blew his trumpet and called out, "Alice!"
Alice jumped up in a great hurry, forgetting how large she had grown in the last few minutes. As she stood, the skirt of her dress caught the edge of the jury box, tipping it completely over. The 12 jurors tumbled out head first onto the crowd below, sprawling about like goldfish from a bowl she had once knocked over at home.
"Oh, please forgive me!" Alice cried, and she began picking them up as fast as she could, for she had a strong feeling that they must be put back into their proper places immediately, or the trial could not go on. "The trial cannot proceed," the king said in a very solemn voice, "until all the jurors are back in their places, every one of them."
As soon as they were put back, and had recovered their slates and pencils, they began writing down a history of their accident. "What do you know about this business?" the king asked Alice. "Nothing whatever," said Alice. "Nothing at all?" insisted the king. "Nothing at all," said Alice.
"That's very important," the king said, turning to the jury. The jurors were just beginning to write this down, when the white rabbit interrupted. "Your majesty means unimportant, of course," he said in a respectful tone, though he was making faces at the king.
"Unimportant, of course, is what I meant," the king said quickly. He muttered to himself, "Important, unimportant, unimportant, important," as if he were trying to see which word sounded best. Some of the jury wrote important, and some wrote unimportant. Alice could see this, because she was now tall enough to look down over their shoulders.
Suddenly, the king stood up and pulled a large book from his pocket. "Rule 42!" he shouted. "All persons more than a mile high must leave the court!" Everyone looked at Alice. "I am not a mile high," said Alice. "You are!" said the king. "You're nearly two miles high!" added the queen.
"Well, I shan't go at any rate," said Alice. "Besides, that's not a regular rule. You've just invented it this very minute." "It's the oldest rule in the book," said the king. "Then it ought to be number one," said Alice.
The king turned pale and shut his book quickly. "Consider your verdict!" he said to the jury in a low, trembling voice. "No, no!" said the queen. "Sentence first, verdict afterwards!" "That is utter nonsense!" Alice said loudly. "The idea of having the sentence first!"
"Hold your tongue!" screamed the queen, turning red in the face. "I won't!" said Alice. "Off with her head!" the queen bellowed at the top of her lungs. But nobody moved. Alice looked down at them all. She had grown to her full natural size, and she felt a sudden, magnificent wave of clarity.
The confusion, the changing sizes, the endless circular arguments, they all fell away. "Who cares for you?" Alice said, drawing herself up to her full height. "You're nothing but a pack of cards!" And this, the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her, like a cloud of autumn leaves.
Alice gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off. And then, she found herself lying on the grassy bank, with her head in her sister's lap. The sun was setting low, and the soft wind was gently brushing some dry leaves off her face.
"Wake up, Alice, dear," her sister was saying in a warm, gentle voice. "What a long sleep you've had." "Oh, I've had such a curious dream," Alice said. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking around the quiet meadow.
There were no white rabbits in waistcoats, no grinning cats in the branches, no mad hatters at a frozen tea table, and no angry card queens shouting in the garden. The river murmured softly, and the world was once again perfectly orderly, reasonable, and safe.
But as Alice stood up to run home for her tea, she felt a little different. She had been to a place where up was down, where time was a person you could offend, and where the rules changed with every bite of a mushroom.
Yet, through it all, she had remained Alice. This is the end of her adventure. But it leaves us with something to think about as the night grows quiet. When you find yourself in a place where nothing makes sense, where the rules of the world seem to dissolve, and everyone around you seems to have gone a little mad, how do you keep hold of who you are?
How do you stay sensible, kind, and true to yourself, even when the whole world turns into nothing but a pack of cards?