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                    <Italic>Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland</Italic>
                    <LineBreak/>
                    by
                    <LineBreak/>
                    Lewis Carroll
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                    Chapter VII
                    <LineBreak />
                    A Mad Tea-Party
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                    There was a table set out under a tree in front of the 
                    house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at
                    it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, 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; ‘only, as it’s asleep, I 
                    suppose it doesn’t mind.’
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                    The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded 
                    together at one corner of it: ‘No room! No room!’ they
                    cried out when they saw Alice coming. ‘There’s
                    <Italic>plenty</Italic> of room!’ said Alice indignantly, 
                    and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
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                    ‘Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
                </Paragraph>

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                    Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it
                    but tea. ‘I don’t see any wine,’ she remarked.
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                    ‘There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare.
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                    ‘Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice 
                    angrily.
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                    ‘It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being 
                    invited,’ said the March Hare.
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                    ‘I didn’t know it was
                    <Italic>your</Italic> table,’ said 
                    Alice; ‘it’s laid for a great many more than three.’
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                    ‘Your hair wants cutting,’ said the Hatter. He had been 
                    looking at Alice for some time with great curiosity, and 
                    this was his first speech.
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                    ‘You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said 
                    with some severity; ‘it’s very rude.’
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                    The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but 
                    all he
                    <Italic>said</Italic> was, ‘Why is a raven like a
                    writing-desk?’
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                    ‘Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m 
                    glad they’ve begun asking riddles. — I believe I can guess
                    that,’ she added aloud.
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                    ‘Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to 
                    it?’ said the March Hare.
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                    ‘Exactly so,’ said Alice.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘I do,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘at least — at least I mean 
                    what I say — that’s the same thing, you know.’
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                    ‘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”!’
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                    ‘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”!’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘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”!’
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                    ‘It
                    <Italic>is</Italic> the same thing with you,’ said the 
                    Hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat
                    silent for a minute, while Alice thought over all she could 
                    remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn’t much.
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                    The Hatter was the first to break the silence. ‘What day of 
                    the month is it?’ he said, turning to Alice: he had taken 
                    his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, 
                    shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.
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                    Alice considered a little, and then said ‘The fourth.’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Two days wrong!’ sighed the Hatter. ‘I told you butter 
                    wouldn’t suit the works!’ he added looking angrily at the
                    March Hare.
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                    ‘It was the
                    <Italic>best</Italic> butter,’ the March Hare 
                    meekly replied.
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                    ‘Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,’ the Hatter 
                    grumbled: ‘you shouldn’t have put it in with the
                    bread-knife.’
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                    The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: 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
                    <Italic>best</Italic> butter, you know.’
                </Paragraph>

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                    Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. 
                    ‘What a funny watch!’ she remarked. ‘It tells the day of the 
                    month, and doesn’t tell what o’clock it is!’
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                    ‘Why should it?’ muttered the Hatter. ‘Does
                    <Italic>your</Italic> watch tell you what year it is?’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Of course not,’ Alice replied very readily: ‘but that’s 
                    because it stays the same year for such a long time
                    together.’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Which is just the case with
                    <Italic>mine</Italic> ,’ 
                    said the Hatter.
                </Paragraph>

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                    Alice felt dreadfully 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.
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                    ‘The Dormouse is asleep again,’ said the Hatter, and 
                    he poured a little hot tea upon its nose.
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                    The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, 
                    without opening its eyes, ‘Of course, of course; just 
                    what I was going to remark myself.’
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                    ‘Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, 
                    turning to Alice again.
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                    ‘No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: ‘what’s the answer?’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Nor I,’ said the March Hare.
                </Paragraph>

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                    Alice sighed wearily. ‘I think you might do something 
                    better with the time,’ she said, ‘than waste it in asking
                    riddles that have no answers.’
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                    ‘If you knew Time as well as I do,’ said the Hatter, ‘you 
                    wouldn’t talk about wasting
                    <Italic>it</Italic> . It’s
                    <Italic>him</Italic> .’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Alice.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Of course you don’t!’ the Hatter said, tossing his head 
                    contemptuously. ‘I dare say you never even spoke to Time!’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Perhaps not,’ Alice cautiously replied: ‘but I know I have 
                    to beat time when I learn music.’
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                    ‘Ah! that accounts for it,’ said the Hatter. ‘He won’t stand 
                    beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d 
                    do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, 
                    suppose it were nine o’clock in the morning, just time to 
                    begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, 
                    and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time 
                    for dinner!’
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                    (‘I only wish it was,’ the March Hare said to itself in a 
                    whisper.)
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘That would be grand, certainly,’ said Alice thoughtfully: 
                    ‘but then — I shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.’
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                    ‘Not at first, perhaps,’ said the Hatter: ‘but you could 
                    keep it to half-past one as long as you liked.’
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                    ‘Is that the way
                    <Italic>you</Italic> manage?’ Alice asked.
                </Paragraph>

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                    The Hatter shook his head mournfully. ‘Not I!’ he replied. 
                    ‘We quarrelled last March — just before
                    <Italic>he</Italic> went mad, you know —’ (pointing with 
                    his tea spoon at the March Hare,) ‘— it was at the great 
                    concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing
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                    “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
                    <LineBreak />
                    How I wonder what you’re at!”
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                    You know the song, perhaps?’
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                    ‘I’ve heard something like it,’ said Alice.
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                    ‘It goes on, you know,’ the Hatter continued, ‘in this way:—
                </Paragraph>

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                    “Up above the world you fly,
                    <LineBreak />
                    Like a tea-tray in the sky.
                    <LineBreak />
                    &#x2003;&#x2003;&#x2003;&#x2003;Twinkle, twinkle —”’
                </Paragraph>

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                    Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its 
                    sleep ‘Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle —’ and went on so
                    long that they had to pinch it to make it stop.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,’ said the 
                    Hatter, ‘when the Queen jumped up and bawled out, “He’s
                    murdering the time! Off with his head!”’
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                    ‘How dreadfully savage!’ exclaimed Alice.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘And ever since that,’ the Hatter went on in a mournful 
                    tone, ‘he won’t do a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock
                    now.’
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                    A bright idea came into Alice’s head. ‘Is that the reason so 
                    many tea-things are put out here?’ she asked.
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                    ‘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.’
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                    ‘Then you keep moving round, I suppose?’ said Alice.
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                    ‘Exactly so,’ said the Hatter: ‘as the things get used up.’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘But what happens when you come to the beginning again?’ 
                    Alice ventured to ask.
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                    ‘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.’
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                    ‘I’m afraid I don’t know one,’ said Alice, rather alarmed at 
                    the proposal.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Then the Dormouse shall!’ they both cried. ‘Wake up, 
                    Dormouse!’ And they pinched it on both sides at once.
                </Paragraph>

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                    The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ he 
                    said in a hoarse, feeble voice: ‘I heard every word you
                    fellows were saying.’
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                    ‘Tell us a story!’ said the March Hare.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Yes, please do!’ pleaded Alice.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘And be quick about it,’ added the Hatter, ‘or you’ll be 
                    asleep again before it’s done.’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Once upon a time there were three little sisters,’ the 
                    Dormouse began in a great hurry; ‘and their names were
                    Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom 
                    of a well —’
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                    ‘What did they live on?’ said Alice, who always took a great 
                    interest in questions of eating and drinking.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘They lived on treacle,’ said the Dormouse, after thinking 
                    a minute or two.
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                    ‘They couldn’t have done that, you know,’ Alice gently 
                    remarked; ‘they’d have been ill.’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘So they were,’ said the Dormouse; ‘
                    <Italic>very</Italic>
                    ill.’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary 
                    ways of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, 
                    so she went on: ‘But why did they live at the bottom of a 
                    well?’
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                    ‘Take some more tea,’ the March Hare said to Alice, very 
                    earnestly.
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘I’ve had nothing yet,’ Alice replied in an offended tone, 
                    ‘so I can’t take more.’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘You mean you can’t take
                    <Italic>less</Italic> ,’ said the Hatter: ‘it’s very easy to 
                    take
                    <Italic>more</Italic> than nothing.’
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                    ‘Nobody asked
                    <Italic>your</Italic> opinion,’ said Alice.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Who’s making personal remarks now?’ the Hatter asked 
                    triumphantly.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped 
                    herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to 
                    the Dormouse, and repeated her question. ‘Why did they live 
                    at the bottom of a well?’
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                    The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, 
                    and then said, ‘It was a treacle-well.’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘There’s no such thing!’ Alice was beginning very angrily, 
                    but the Hatter and the March Hare went ‘Sh! sh!’ and the
                    Dormouse sulkily remarked, ‘If you can’t be civil, you’d 
                    better finish the story for yourself.’
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                    ‘No, please go on!’ Alice said very humbly; ‘I won’t 
                    interrupt again. I dare say there may be
                    <Italic>one</Italic> .’
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                    ‘One, indeed!’ said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he 
                    consented to go on. ‘And so these three little sisters —
                    they were learning to draw, you know —’
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                    ‘What did they draw?’ said Alice, quite forgetting her 
                    promise.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Treacle,’ said the Dormouse, without considering at all 
                    this time.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘I want a clean cup,’ interrupted the Hatter: ‘let’s all 
                    move one place on.’
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                    He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: 
                    the March Hare moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice
                    rather unwillingly took the place of the March Hare. The 
                    Hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the 
                    change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, 
                    as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his 
                    plate.
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                    Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she 
                    began very cautiously: ‘But I don’t understand. Where did
                    they draw the treacle from?’
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                    ‘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?’
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                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘But they were
                    <Italic>in</Italic> the well,’ Alice said to 
                    the Dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Of course they were’, said the Dormouse; ‘— well in.’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse 
                    go on for some time without interrupting it.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘They were learning to draw,’ the Dormouse went on, yawning 
                    and rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; ‘and 
                    they drew all manner of things — everything that begins with 
                    an M—’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Why with an M?’ said Alice.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Why not?’ said the March Hare.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    Alice was silent.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was 
                    going off into a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter,
                    it woke up again with a little shriek, and 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?’
                </Paragraph>

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                    ‘Really, now you ask me,’ said Alice, very much confused, 
                    ‘I don’t think —’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    ‘Then you shouldn’t talk,’ said the Hatter.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: 
                    she got up in great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse
                    fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the 
                    least notice of her going, though 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.
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                    ‘At any rate I’ll never go
                    <Italic>there</Italic> again!’ 
                    said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. ‘It’s 
                    the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!’
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees 
                    had a door leading right into 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.
                </Paragraph>

                <Paragraph Margin="0 6" TextIndent="48">
                    Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to 
                    the little glass table. ‘Now, I’ll manage better this time,’
                    she said to herself, and began by taking the little golden 
                    key, and unlocking the door that led into the garden. Then 
                    she went to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had kept a 
                    piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: 
                    then she walked down the little passage: and
                    <Italic>then</Italic> — she found herself at last in the 
                    beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool 
                    fountains.
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