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went on. “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the
“I don’t much care where-” said Alice.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
“-so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.
“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long
enough.” Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried
another question. “What sort of people live about here?” “In that
direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives a
and in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare.
Visit either you like: they’re both mad.” “But I don’t want to go
among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you ca’n’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m
mad. You’re mad.” “How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”
Alice didn’t think that proved it at all: however, she went on: “And
how do you know that you’re mad?” “To begin with,” said the Cat,
“a dog’s not mad. You grant that?” “I suppose so,” said Alice.
“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 today?” “I should like it very much,” said Alice, “but I
haven’t been invited yet.” “You’ll see me there,” said the Cat, and
Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so well used
to queer things happening. While she was still 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 answered very
quietly, just as if the Cat 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 wo’n’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.