== also/Queen Y/n “Well, this #emph[is] grand!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/. “I never expected I should be a/an also/Queen so soon---and I'll tell you what it is, your majesty,” pov/s went on in a severe tone (pov/s vrb/be/ always rather fond of scolding pov/r), “it'll never do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that! also/Queens have to be dignified, you know!” So pov/s got up and walked about---rather stiffly just at first, as pov/s vrb/be/ afraid that the crown might come off: but pov/s comforted pov/r with the thought that there was nobody to see pov/o, “and if I really am a/an also/Queen,” pov/s said as pov/s sat down again, “I shall be able to manage it quite well in time.” Everything was happening so oddly that pov/s didn't feel a bit surprised at finding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to pov/o, one on each side: pov/s would have liked very much to ask them how they came there, but pov/s feared it would not be quite civil. However, there would be no harm, pov/s thought, in asking if the game was over. “Please, would you tell me---” she began, looking timidly at the Red Queen. “Speak when you're spoken to!” The Queen sharply interrupted her. “But if everybody obeyed that rule,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/, who was always ready for a little argument, “and if you only spoke when you were spoken to, and the other person always waited for #emph[you] to begin, you see nobody would ever say anything, so that---” “Ridiculous!” cried the Queen. “Why, don't you see, child---” here she broke off with a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly changed the subject of the conversation. “What do you mean by ‘If you really are a/an also/Queen'? What right have you to call yourself so? You can't be a/an also/Queen, you know, till you've passed the proper examination. And the sooner we begin it, the better.” “I only said ‘if'!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S/poor pov/S/ pleaded in a piteous tone. The two Queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with a little shudder, “Prn/s #emph[says] prn/s only said ‘if'---” “But prn/s said a great deal more than that!” the White Queen moaned, wringing her hands. “Oh, ever so much more than that!” “So you did, you know,” the Red Queen said to pov/O. “Always speak the truth---think before you speak---and write it down afterwards.” “I'm sure I didn't mean---” pov/S vrB/be/ beginning, but the Red Queen interrupted pov/o impatiently. “That's just what I complain of! You #emph[should] have meant! What do you suppose is the use of child without any meaning? Even a joke should have some meaning---and a child's more important than a joke, I hope. You couldn't deny that, even if you tried with both hands.” “I don't deny things with my #emph[hands];,” pov/S objected. “Nobody said you did,” said the Red Queen. “I said you couldn't if you tried.” “Prn/s'cut/off first 2/vrn/present/have\/\/ in that state of mind,” said the White Queen, “that prn/s wants to deny #emph[something];---only prn/s vrn/do/n't know what to deny!” “A nasty, vicious temper,” the Red Queen remarked; and then there was an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two. The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, “I invite you to Y/n's dinner-party this afternoon.” The White Queen smiled feebly, and said “And I invite #emph[you];.” “I didn't know I was to have a party at all,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/; “but if there is to be one, I think #emph[I] ought to invite the guests.” “We gave you the opportunity of doing it,” the Red Queen remarked: “but I daresay you've not had many lessons in manners yet?” “Manners are not taught in lessons,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/. “Lessons teach you to do sums, and things of that sort.” “And you do Addition?” the White Queen asked. “What's one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?” “I don't know,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/. “I lost count.” “Prn/s can't do Addition,” the Red Queen interrupted. “Can you do Subtraction? Take nine from eight.” “Nine from eight I can't, you know,” pov/S replied very readily: “but---” “She can't do Subtraction,” said the White Queen. “Can you do Division? Divide a loaf by a knife---what's the answer to that?” “I suppose---” pov/S vrB/be/ beginning, but the Red Queen answered for pov/o. “Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from a dog: what remains?” Pov/S considered. “The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it---and the dog wouldn't remain; it would come to bite me---and I'm sure #emph[I] shouldn't remain!” “Then you think nothing would remain?” said the Red Queen. “I think that's the answer.” “Wrong, as usual,” said the Red Queen: “the dog's temper would remain.” “But I don't see how---” “Why, look here!” the Red Queen cried. “The dog would lose its temper, wouldn't it?” “Perhaps it would,” pov/S replied cautiously. “Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!” the Queen exclaimed triumphantly. Pov/S said, as gravely as pov/s could, “They might go different ways.” But pov/s couldn't help thinking to pov/r, “What dreadful nonsense we #emph[are] talking!” “Prn/s can't do sums a #emph[bit];!” the Queens said together, with great emphasis. “Can #emph[you] do sums?” pov/S said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, for pov/s didn't like being found fault with so much. The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. “I can do Addition, if you give me time---but I can't do Subtraction, under #emph[any] circumstances!” “Of course you know your A B C?” said the Red Queen. “To be sure I do.” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/. “So do I,” the White Queen whispered: “we'll often say it over together, dear. And I'll tell you a secret---I can read words of one letter! Isn't #emph[that] grand! However, don't be discouraged. You'll come to it in time.” Here the Red Queen began again. “Can you answer useful questions?” she said. “How is bread made?” “I know #emph[that];!” pov/S cried eagerly. “You take some flour---” “Where do you pick the flower?” the White Queen asked. “In a garden, or in the hedges?” “Well, it isn't #emph[picked] at all,” pov/S explained: “it's #emph[ground];---” “How many acres of ground?” said the White Queen. “You mustn't leave out so many things.” “Fan prn/p head!” the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. “Prn/s'll be feverish after so much thinking.” So they set to work and fanned pov/o with bunches of leaves, till pov/s had to beg them to leave off, it blew pov/p hair about so. “Prn/s'cut/off first 2/vrn/present/have\/\/ all right again now,” said the Red Queen. “Do you know Languages? What's the French for fiddle-de-dee?” “Fiddle-de-dee's not English,” pov/S replied gravely. “Who ever said it was?” said the Red Queen. Pov/S thought pov/s saw a way out of the difficulty this time. “If you'll tell me what language ‘fiddle-de-dee' is, I'll tell you the French for it!” pov/s exclaimed triumphantly. But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said “Queens never make bargains.” “I wish Queens never asked questions,” pov/S thought to pov/r. “Don't let us quarrel,” the White Queen said in an anxious tone. “What is the cause of lightning?” “The cause of lightning,” pov/S said very decidedly, for pov/s felt quite certain about this, “is the thunder---no, no!” pov/s hastily corrected pov/r. “I meant the other way.” “It's too late to correct it,” said the Red Queen: “when you've once said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.” “Which reminds me---” the White Queen said, looking down and nervously clasping and unclasping her hands, “we had #emph[such] a thunderstorm last Tuesday---I mean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know.” Pov/S vrB/be/ puzzled. “In #emph[our] country,” pov/s remarked, “there's only one day at a time.” The Red Queen said, “That's a poor thin way of doing things. Now #emph[here];, we mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and sometimes in the winter we take as many as five nights together---for warmth, you know.” “Are five nights warmer than one night, then?” pov/S ventured to ask. “Five times as warm, of course.” “But they should be five times as #emph[cold];, by the same rule---” “Just so!” cried the Red Queen. “Five times as warm, #emph[and] five times as cold---just as I'm five times as rich as you are, #emph[and] five times as clever!” Pov/S sighed and gave it up. “It's exactly like a riddle with no answer!” pov/s thought. “Humpty Dumpty saw it too,” the White Queen went on in a low voice, more as if she were talking to herself. “He came to the door with a corkscrew in his hand---” “What did he want?” said the Red Queen. “He said he #emph[would] come in,” the White Queen went on, “because he was looking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasn't such a thing in the house, that morning.” “Is there generally?” pov/S asked in an astonished tone. “Well, only on Thursdays,” said the Queen. “I know what he came for,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/: “he wanted to punish the fish, because---” Here the White Queen began again. “It was #emph[such] a thunderstorm, you can't think!” (“She #emph[never] could, you know,” said the Red Queen.) “And part of the roof came off, and ever so much thunder got in---and it went rolling round the room in great lumps---and knocking over the tables and things---till I was so frightened, I couldn't remember my own name!” Pov/S thought to pov/r, “I never should #emph[try] to remember my name in the middle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?” but pov/s did not say this aloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queen's feeling. “Your Majesty must excuse her,” the Red Queen said to pov/O, taking one of the White Queen's hands in her own, and gently stroking it: “she means well, but she can't help saying foolish things, as a general rule.” The White Queen looked timidly at pov/O, alt/first and second or third/and pov/s/who/ felt pov/s #emph[ought] to say something kind, but really couldn't think of anything at the moment. “She never was really well brought up,” the Red Queen went on: “but it's amazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see how pleased she'll be!” But this was more than pov/S had courage to do. “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 pov/P shoulder. “I #emph[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,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/, as pov/s 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: #include "poems/hush-a-by-lady.typ" “And now you know the words,” she added, as she put her head down on pov/P other shoulder, “just sing it through to #emph[me];. I'm getting sleepy, too.” In another moment both Queens were fast asleep, and snoring loud. “What #emph[am] I to do?” alt/first and second or third/pov/S exclaimed/exclaimed pov/S/, looking about in great perplexity, as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from pov/p shoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap. “I don't think it #emph[ever] happened before, that any one 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!” pov/s 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 pov/s could even make out the words, and pov/s listened so eagerly that, when the two great heads vanished from her lap, pov/s hardly missed them. Pov/s vrb/be/ standing before an arched doorway over which were the words CAP/also/Queen Y/n/ in large letters, and on each side of the arch there was a bell-handle; one was marked “Visitors' Bell,” and the other “Servants' Bell.” “I'll wait till the song's over,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/, “and then I'll ring---the---#emph[which] bell must I ring?” pov/s went on, very much puzzled by the names. “I'm not a visitor, and I'm not a servant. There #emph[ought] to be one marked ‘also/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. Pov/S 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 pov/o: he was dressed in bright yellow, and had enormous boots on. “What is it, now?” the Frog said in a deep hoarse whisper. Pov/S turned round, ready to find fault with anybody. “Where's the servant whose business it is to answer the door?” pov/s began angrily. “Which door?” said the Frog. Pov/S almost stamped with irritation at the slow drawl in which he spoke. “#emph[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 pov/O. “To answer the door?” he said. “What's it been asking of?” He was so hoarse that pov/S could scarcely hear him. “I don't know what you mean,” povs said. “I talks English, doesn't I?” the Frog went on. “Or are you deaf? What did it ask you?” “Nothing!” pov/S said impatiently. “I've been knocking at it!” “Shouldn't do that---shouldn't do that---” the Frog muttered. “Vexes it, you know.” Then he went up and gave the door a kick with one of his great feet. “You let #emph[it] alone,” he panted out, as he hobbled back to his tree, “and it'll let #emph[you] alone, you know.” At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing: #include "poems/to-the-looking-glass-world-part-1.typ" And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus: #include "poems/to-the-looking-glass-world-part-2.typ" Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself, “Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one's counting?” In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse; #include "poems/to-the-looking-glass-world-part-3.typ" Then came the chorus again:--- #include "poems/to-the-looking-glass-world-part-4.typ" “Ninety times nine!” pov/S repeated in despair, “Oh, that'll never be done! I'd better go in at once---” and there was a dead silence the moment pov/s appeared. Pov/S glanced nervously along the table, as pov/s 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,” pov/s 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 already taken two of them, but the middle one was empty. Pov/S sat down in it, rather uncomfortable in the silence, and longing for some one 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 alt/first and second or third/pov/O. Pov/s/pov/O, who/ looked at it rather anxiously, as pov/s had never had to carve a joint before. “You look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,” said the Red Queen. “Y/n---Mutton; Mutton---Y/n.” The leg of mutton got up in the dish and made a little bow to pov/O; and pov/S returned the bow, not knowing whether to be frightened or amused. “May I give you a slice?” pov/s 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 any one 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,” pov/S 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---Y/n; Y/n---Pudding. Remove the pudding!” and the waiters took it away so quickly that pov/S couldn't return its bow. However, pov/s didn't see why the Red Queen should be the only one to give orders, so, as an experiment, pov/s called out “Waiter! Bring back the pudding!” and there it was again in a moment like a conjuring-trick. It was so large that pov/s couldn't help feeling a #emph[little] shy with it, as pov/s had been with the mutton; however, pov/s conquered pov/p shyness by a great effort and cut a slice and handed it 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 #emph[you];, you creature!” It spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and pov/S hadn't a word to say in reply: pov/s could only sit and 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,” pov/S began, a little frightened at finding that, the moment pov/s opened pov/p lips, there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed upon pov/o; “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?” Pov/s 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 pov/P 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 pov/P other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon. “It would be #emph[such] a treat! May I?” “Please do,” pov/S said very politely. The White Queen laughed with delight, and stroked pov/P cheek. Then she began: #include "poems/lovely-riddle-all-about-fishes.typ" “Take a minute to think about it, and then guess,” said the Red Queen. “Meanwhile, we'll drink your health---also/Queen Y/n'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 eagerly lapping up the gravy, “just like pigs in a trough!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/. “You ought to return thanks in a neat speech,” the Red Queen said, frowning at pov/O as she spoke. “We must support you, you know,” the White Queen whispered, as pov/S got up to do it, very obediently, but a little frightened. “Thank you very much,” pov/s whispered in reply, “but I can do quite well without.” “That wouldn't be at all the thing,” the Red Queen said very decidedly: so pov/S tried to submit to it with a good grace. (“And they #emph[did] push so!” pov/s said afterwards, when pov/s vrb/be/ telling pov/p sister the history of the feast. “You would have thought they wanted to squeeze me flat!”) In fact it was rather difficult for pov/o to keep in pov/p place while pov/s made pov/p speech: the two Queens pushed pov/o so, one on each side, that they nearly lifted pov/o up into the air: “I rise to return thanks---” pov/S began: and pov/s really #emph[did] rise as pov/s spoke, several inches; but pov/s got hold of the edge of the table, and managed to pull pov/r down again. “Take care of yourself!” screamed the White Queen, seizing pov/P hair with both her hands. “Something's going to happen!” And then (as pov/S afterwards described it) all sorts of things happened in a moment. The candles all grew up to the ceiling, looking something like a bed of rushes with fireworks at the top. As to the bottles, they each took a pair of plates, which they hastily fitted on as wings, and so, with forks for legs, went fluttering about in all directions: “and very like birds they look,” pov/S thought to pov/r, as well as pov/s could in the dreadful confusion that was beginning. At this moment pov/s heard a hoarse laugh at pov/p side, and turned to see what was the matter with the White Queen; but, instead of the Queen, there was the leg of mutton sitting in the chair. “Here I am!” cried a voice from the soup tureen, and pov/S turned again, just in time to see the Queen's broad good-natured face grinning at pov/o for a moment over the edge of the tureen, before she disappeared into the soup. There was not a moment to be lost. Already several of the guests were lying down in the dishes, and the soup ladle was walking up the table towards pov/P chair, and beckoning to pov/o impatiently to get out of its way. “I can't stand this any longer!” pov/s cried as pov/s jumped up and seized the table-cloth with both hands: one good pull, and plates, dishes, guests, and candles came crashing down together in a heap on the floor. “And as for #emph[you];,” pov/s went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen, whom pov/s considered as the cause of all the mischief---but the Queen was no longer at pov/p side---she had suddenly dwindled down to the size of a little doll, and was now on the table, merrily running round and round after her own shawl, which was trailing behind her. At any other time, pov/S would have felt surprised at this, but pov/s vrb/be/ far too much excited to be surprised at anything #emph[now];. “As for #emph[you];,” pov/s repeated, catching hold of the little creature in the very act of jumping over a bottle which had just lighted upon the table, “I'll shake you into a kitten, that I will!”