“Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,” Alice

replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone,

“Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her ‘Turtle Soup,’

will you, old fellow?”


The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with

sobs, to sing this:—


“Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,

Waiting in a hot tureen!

Who for such dainties would not stoop?

Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!

Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!

    Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

    Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,

    Beautiful, beautiful Soup!


“Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,

Game, or any other dish?

Who would not give all else for two p

ennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

    Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

    Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,

    Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!”


“Chorus again!” cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just

begun to repeat it, when a cry of “The trial’s beginning!”

was heard in the distance.


“Come on!” cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it

hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.


“What trial is it?” Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only

answered “Come on!” and ran the faster, while more and more faintly

came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:—


“Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,

    Beautiful, beautiful Soup!”


CHAPTER XI.

Who Stole the Tarts?


The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived,

with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little birds and

beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them,

in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the

White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the

other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts