Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (33 page)

"A little kindness—and putting her hair in papers—would do wonders with her—-"

The White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Alice's shoulder.
"I
am
so sleepy!"
she moaned.

"She"s tired, poor thing!"
said the Red Queen, "Smooth her hair—lend her your nightcap—and sing her a soothing lullaby."

"I haven't got a nightcap with me," said Alice, as she tried to obey the first direction: "and I don't know any soothing lullabies."

"I must do it myself, then," said the Red Queen, and she began:

"Hush-a-by lady, in Alice's lap!

Till the feast's ready, we've time for a nap:

Till the feast's over, we'll go to the ball —

Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!.

 "And now you know the words," she added, as she put her head down on Alice's other shoulder, "just sing it through to
me.
I'm getting sleepy too."
In another moment both Queens were fast asleep, and snoring loud.

"What
am I
to do?"
exclaimed Alice, looking about in great perplexity, as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from her shoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap.
"I don't think it
ever
happened before, that anyone had to take "care of two Queens asleep at once!
No, not in all the History of England—it couldn't, you know, because there never was more than one Queen at a time.
Do wake up, you heavy things!"
she went on in an impatient tone; but there was no answer but a gentle snoring.

The snoring got more distinct every minute, and sounded more like a tune: at last she could even make out words, and she listened so eagerly that when the two great heads suddenly vanished from her lap, she hardly missed them.

She was standing before an arched doorway, over which were the words QUEEN ALICE in large letters, and on each side of it there was a bell-handle ; one marked "Visitors' Bell," and the other "Servants' Bell."

"I'll wait till the song's over," thought Alice, "and then I'll ring the—the—
which
bell must ring?"
she went on, very much puzzled by the names.
"I'm not a visitor, and I'm not a servant.
There
ought
to be one marked "Queen,' you know—-"

Just then the door opened a little way, and a creature with a long beak put its head out for a moment and said, "No admittance till the week after next!"
and shut the door again with a bang.

Alice knocked and rang in vain for a long time, but at last a very old Frog, who was sitting under a tree, got up, and hobbled slowly towards her : he was dressed in bright yellow, and had enormous boots on.

"What is it now?"
the Frog said in a deep hoarse whisper.

Alice turned round, ready to find fault with anybody.
"Where's the servant whose business it is to answer the door?"
she began angrily.

"Which door?"
said the Frog.

Alice almost stamped with irritation at the slow drawl in which he spoke.
"This
door, of course!

The Frog looked at the door with his large dull eyes for a minute : then he went nearer and rubbed it with his thumb, as if he were trying whether the paint would come off; then he looked at Alice.
"To answer the door?"
he said.
"What's it been asking of?"
He was so hoarse that Alice could scarcely hear him.

"I don't know what you mean," she said.

"I speaks English, doesn't I?"
the Frog went on.

"Or are you deaf?
What did it ask you?"

"Nothing!"
Alice said impatiently.
"I've been knocking at it!"

"Shouldn't do that—shouldn't do that—" the Frog muttered.
"Wexes it, you know."
Then he went up and gave the door a kick with one off his great feet.
"You let
it
alone," he panted out, as he hobbled back to his tree, "and it'll let
you
alone, you know."

At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing:

To the Looking-glass world it was Alice that said,

"I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head;

Let the Looking-glass creatures, whatever they be,

Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White

Queen, and me.

 And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:

"Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,

And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:

Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea —

And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!

 Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself, "Thirty times three makes ninety.
I wonder if anyone's counting?"
In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice, sang another verse:

"`O Looking-glass creatures,' quoth Alice, `draw near!

'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:

'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea

Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!'"

Then came the chorus again:

"Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,

Or anything else that is pleasant to drink;

Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine —

And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine
"

"Ninety-times-nine!"
Alice repeated in despair.
"Oh, that'll never be done!
I'd better go in at once—" and in she went, and there was a dead silence the moment she appeared.

Alice glanced nervously along the table, as she walked up the large hall, and noticed that there were about fifty guests, of all kinds: some were animals, some birds, and there were even a few flowers among them.
"I'm glad they've come without waiting to be asked," she thought: "I should never have known who were the right people to invite!"

There were three chairs at the head of the table; the Red and White Queens had taken two of them, but the middle one was empty.
Alice sat down, rather uncomfortable at the silence, and longing for someone to speak.

At last the Red Queen began.
"You've missed the soup and fish," she said.
"Put on the joint!"
And the waiters set a leg of mutton before Alice, who looked at it rather anxiously, as she had never had to carve one before.

"You look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of mutton," said the Red Queen.
"Alice—Mutton; Mutton—Alice."
The leg of mutton got up in the dish and made a little bow to Alice; and she returned the bow, not knowing whether to be frightened or amused.

"May I give you a slice?"
she said, taking up the knife and fork, and looking from one Queen to the other.

"Certainly not," the Red Queen said, very decidedly; "it isn't etiquette to cut anyone you've been introduced to.
Remove the joint!"
And the waiters carried it off, and brought a large plum-pudding in its place.

"I won't be introduced to the pudding, please," Alice said rather hastily, "or we shall get no dinner at all.
May I give you some?"

But the Red Queen looked sulky, and growled, "Pudding—Alice; Alice—Pudding.
Remove the pudding!"
and the waiters took it away before Alice could return its bow.

However, she didn't see why the Red Queen should be the only one to give orders, so, as an experiment, she called out, "Waiter!
Bring back the pudding!"
and there it was again in a moment, like a conjuring trick.
It was so large that she couldn't help feeling a
little
shy with it, as she had been with the mutton; however, she conquered her shyness by a great effort, and handed a slice to the Red Queen.

"What impertinence!"
said the Pudding.
" I wonder how you'd like it, if I were to cut a slice out of
you,
you creature!"

Alice could only look at it and gasp.

"Make a remark," said the Red Queen: "it's ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding!"

"Do you know, I've had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me to-day," Alice began, a little frightened at finding that, the moment she opened her lips, there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed upon her; "and it's a very curious thing, I think—every poem was about fishes in some way.
Do you know why they're so fond of fishes, all about here?"

She spoke to the Red Queen, whose answer was a little wide of the mark.
"As to fishes," she said, very slowly and solemnly, putting her mouth close to Alice's ear, "her White Majesty knows a lovely riddle—all in poetry—all about fishes.
Shall she repeat it?"

"Her Red Majesty's very kind to mention it," the White Queen murmured into Alice's other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon.
"It would be such a treat!
May I?"

"Please do," Alice said very politely.
The White Queen laughed with delight, and stroked Alice's cheek.
Then she began:

"
`First the fish must be caught.'

That is easy: a baby, I think, could have caught it.

`Next, the fsh must be bought.'

That is easy: a penny, I think, would have bought it.

`Now cook me the fish!'

That is easy, and will not take more than a minute.

`Let it lie in a dish!'

That is easy, because it already is in it.

`Bring it here!
Let me sup!'

It is easy to set such a dish on the table.

`Take the dish-cover up
!'

Ah
that
is so hard that I fear I'm unable
!

For it holds it like glue —

Holds the lid to the dish, while it lies in the middle:

Which is easiest to do,

un-dish-cover the fish, or dish-cover the riddle?"

 "Take a minute to think about it, then and guess," said the Red Queen.
"Meanwhile, we'll drink your health—Queen Alice's health!"
she screamed at the top of her voice, and all the guests began drinking it directly, and very queerly they managed it: some of them put their glasses upon their heads like extinguishers, and drank all that trickled down their faces—others upset the decanters, and drank the wine as it ran off the edges of the table—and three of them (who looked like kangaroos) scrambled into the dish of roast mutton, and began to lap up the gravy, "just like pigs in a trough!"
thought Alice.

"You ought to return thanks in a neat speech," the Red Queen said, frowning at Alice as she spoke.
"We must support you, you know," the White Queen whispered, as Alice got up to do it, very obediently, but a little frightened.

"Thank you very much," she whispered in reply, "but I can do quite well without."