“Well, then,” the Cat went on, “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. “Do you play croquet

with the Queen to-day?”


“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 at this, she was getting so used to queer things

happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly

appeared again.


“By-the-bye, what became of the baby?” said the Cat.

“I’d nearly forgotten to ask.”


“It turned into a pig,” Alice quietly said, just as if it had come

back in a natural way.


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


Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not appear,

and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the March

Hare was said to live. “I’ve seen hatters before,” she said

to herself; “the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and

perhaps as this is May it won’t be raving mad—at least not so mad

as it was in March.” As she said this, she looked up, and there was the

Cat again, sitting on a branch of a tree.


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


“I said pig,” replied Alice; “and I wish you wouldn’t

keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.”


“All right,” said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly,

beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained

some time after the rest of it had gone.


“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!”


She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the