The March Hare and the Dormouse and the Hatter were seated at a very neglected-looking tea-table; they were evidently in agonised consideration of something—even the Dormouse, which was asleep, had a note of interrogation in its tail.

“No room!” they shouted, as soon as they caught sight of Alice.

“There’s lots of room for improvement,” said Alice, as she sat down.

“You’ve got no business to be here,” said the March Hare.

“And if you had any business you wouldn’t be here, you know,” said the Hatter; “I hope you don’t suppose this is a business gathering. What will you have to eat?” he continued.

Alice looked at a long list of dishes with promising names, but nearly all of them seemed to be crossed off.{54}

“That list was made nearly seven years ago, you know,” said the March Hare, in explanation.

“But you can always have patience,” said the Hatter. “You begin with patience and we do the rest.” And he leaned back and seemed prepared to do a lot of rest.


TEA AT THE HOTEL CECIL.

(With apologies to Everybody Concerned.)

“Your manners want mending,” said the March Hare suddenly to Alice.

“They don’t,” she replied indignantly.{55}

“It’s very rude to contradict,” said the Hatter; “you would like to hear me sing something.”

Alice felt that it would be unwise to contradict again, so she said nothing, and the Hatter began:
Dwindle, dwindle, little war,
How I wonder more and more,
As about the veldt you hop
When you really mean to stop.

“Talking about stopping,” interrupted the March Hare anxiously, “I wonder how my timepiece is behaving.”

He took out of his pocket a large chronometer of complicated workmanship, and mournfully regarded it.

“It’s dreadfully behind the times,” he said, giving it an experimental shake. “I would take it to pieces at once if I was at all sure of getting the bits back in their right places.”

“What is the matter with it?” asked Alice.

“The wheels seem to get stuck,” said the March Hare. “There is too much Irish butter in the ............