Alice was silent.


The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a doze;

but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a little shriek, and

went on: “—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the

moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are “much of

a muchness”—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a

muchness?”


“Really, now you ask me,” said Alice, very much confused, “I

don’t think—”


“Then you shouldn’t talk,” said the Hatter.


This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great

disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the

others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or

twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them,

they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.


“At any rate I’ll never go there again!” said Alice as

she picked her way 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 leading

right into it. “That’s very curious!” she thought. “But

everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.”

And in she went.


Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little glass

table. “Now, I’ll manage better this time,” she said to

herself, and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that

led into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had

kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: then she

walked down the little passage: and then—she found herself at last

in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.


CHAPTER VIII.

The Queen’s Croquet-Ground


A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on