Chapter 6. Pig and Pepper

For a minute or two Alice stood looking at the house, and thinking what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery ran out of the wood (actually it was a fish in livery) and knocked loudly at the door. The door was opened by another footman in livery, with large eyes like a frog’s; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had curled powdered hair. She felt very curious, and walked a little out of the wood to listen.

The Fish-Footman took a great letter from under his arm and gave it to the other footman, saying, in a solemn tone, “For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet.” The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, “From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.”

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

Alice laughed so much at this that she had to run back into the wood because the creatures could hear her. When she looked out of the wood again she saw only the Frog-footman sitting on the ground near the door.

Alice went shyly up to the door and knocked.

“There’s no use in knocking,” said the Footman, “for two reasons. Firstly, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could hear you.” And really there was a great noise in the house.

“Please,” said Alice, “how can I get in?”

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

At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came flying out and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind the Footman.

“ – or next day, maybe,” the Footman continued in the same tone.

“But what am I to do?” said Alice.

“Anything you like,” replied the Footman, and began whistling.

“Oh, there’s no use in talking to him!” said Alice, opened the door and went in.

Behind the door was a large kitchen full of smoke. The Duchess was sitting on a stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was cooking soup.

“There’s too much pepper in that soup!” Alice remarked to herself sneezing.

There was too much pepper in the air too. Even the Duchess sneezed sometimes; and the baby was sneezing and crying all the time. The only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze were the cook and a large cat which was grinning widely.

“Please could you tell me,” said Alice, a little modestly, “why your cat grins like that?”

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

Alice saw that the Duchess addressed the baby and not her so she decided to continue:

“I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t know that cats COULD grin.”

“They all can,” remarked the Duchess; “and most of them do.”

“Hey! You may nurse it a bit, if you like!” the Duchess said to Alice, throwing the baby to her. “I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen,” and she hurried out of the room.

Alice caught the baby with some difficulty. And it took her some time to start nursing it because it was wriggling and grunting all the time. As soon as she could keep it tight in her hands she took it out into the open air.

Alice was just beginning to think to herself, “Now, what will I do with this creature when I get it home?” when it grunted again, so loudly, that she looked down into its face in some alarm. There could be NO mistake about it: it was a pig, and she felt quite absurd to keep it in her hands.

So she put the little creature down and it trotted away into the wood. Suddenly she saw the Cheshire cat sitting in a tree. The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice.

“Cheshire Puss,” she began shyly. The Cat only grinned a little wider. “Could you please tell me which way to go from here?”

“It depends on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“It’s not so important for me where – ” said Alice.

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

“ – until I get SOMEWHERE,” Alice added as an explanation.

“Oh, you’ll surely do that,” said the Cat, “if you walk long enough.”

“And what people live about here?” asked Alice.

“In THAT direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw, “lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit the one that you like: they’re both mad.”

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

“Oh,” said the Cat: “but we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”

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

“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t be here. Do you play croquet with the Queen to-day?”

“I would like it very much,” said Alice, “but I haven’t been invited yet.”

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

Suddenly it appeared again.

“By-the-way, what became of the baby?” wondered the Cat. “I forgot to ask.”

“It turned into a pig,” Alice quietly said.

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

Alice waited a little but it did not appear, so she walked 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 as this is May it won’t be absolutely mad – at least not as mad as it was in March.” As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat again, sitting on a tree.

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

“I said pig,” replied Alice; “and could you please stop appearing and vanishing so suddenly?”

“All right,” answered the Cat; and this time it vanished slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained in the tree for some time.

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

And she walked to the March Hare’s house. She saw it quite soon: the chimneys looked like ears and the roof was covered with fur.

Chapter 7. A Mad Tea-Party

There was a table 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.

The table was large, but the three were all together at one corner of it: “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw Alice. “There’s a LOT of room!” said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.

“Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it except 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 invitation,” said the March Hare.

“I didn’t know it was YOUR table,” said Alice; “it’s laid for much more than three.”

The party sat silent for a minute. The Hatter spoke first. “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, shaking it, and holding it to his ear.

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

“Two days wrong!” noted the Hatter. “I told you butter couldn’t help!” he added looking angrily at the March Hare.

“It was the BEST butter,” the March Hare replied. He took the watch and looked at it unhappily: then he put it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could only repeat, “It was the BEST butter.”

“What a funny watch!” Alice remarked. “It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t tell the time!”

“Why should it?“inquired the Hatter. “Does YOUR watch tell you what year it is?”

“Of course not,” Alice replied readily: “but that’s because it stays the same year for a long time.”

“So does MINE,” said the Hatter.

“I don’t quite understand you,” Alice said, as politely as she could.

“Well, you know, we quarreled with Time last March – just before HE went mad – ” (pointing at the March Hare,) “ – it was at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts where I had to sing. I hadn’t finished the first part of the song when the Queen shouted: “He’s murdering the time! Off with his head!”

“Oh, how cruel!” exclaimed Alice.

“And since that,” the Hatter went on sadly, “it’s always six o’clock now.”

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

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

“Then you move round all the time, I suppose?” said Alice.

“Exactly so,” said the Hatter.

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

“Let’s change the subject,” the March Hare yawned. “I think the lady will tell us a story.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any,” said Alice.

“Then take some more tea,” the March Hare told Alice very seriously.

“I’ve had no tea yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.”

“You mean you can’t take LESS,” said the Hatter: “it’s very easy to take MORE than nothing.”

Alice helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter.

“I want a clean cup,” suddenly said the Hatter: “let’s all move one place on.”

He moved on, and the Dormouse moved on too: the March Hare moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice unwillingly took the place of the March Hare. But only the Hatter had a clean cup. Alice got the plate and the cup after the March Hare.

She didn’t like it at all, so she stood up, and walked away; the Dormouse fell asleep, and nobody called her back. When she turned to look at them she saw that they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.

“I’ll never go THERE again!” said Alice as she was walking 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 in it. “That’s very curious!” she thought. “But everything’s curious today. I think I will go in at once.” And she went in.

Once more she was in the long hall, and near the little glass table. “I’ll do better this time,” she said to herself, and first took the little golden key and unlocked the door into the garden. Then she nibbled at the mushroom a few times (a piece of it was in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: then she walked down the little corridor behind the door: and THEN – at last she was in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.