“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Alice, “a great

girl like you,” (she might well say this), “to go on crying in this

way! Stop this moment, I tell you!” But she went on all the same,

shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about

four inches deep and reaching half down the hall.


After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and she

hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit

returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand and

a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to

himself as he came, “Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won’t she be

savage if I’ve kept her waiting!” Alice felt so desperate that she

was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she began,

in a low, timid voice, “If you please, sir—” The Rabbit

started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried away

into the darkness as hard as he could go.


Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she kept

fanning herself all the time she went on talking: “Dear, dear! How queer

everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder if

I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got

up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But

if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah,

that’s the great puzzle!” And she began thinking over all

the children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she could

have been changed for any of them.


“I’m sure I’m not Ada,” she said, “for her hair

goes in such long ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and

I’m sure I can’t be Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she,

oh! she knows such a very little! Besides, she’s she, and

I’m I, and—oh dear, how puzzling it all is! I’ll try