`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 if I know all the things 
I used to know. Let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, 
and four times seven is--oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that rate! However, 
the Multiplication Table doesn't signify: let's try Geography. London is the capital 
of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and Rome--no, THAT'S all wrong, I'm 
certain! I must have been changed for Mabel! I'll try and say "How doth the little--"' 
and she crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to 
repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come 
the same as they used to do:-- 
`How doth the little crocodile 
Improve his shining tail, 
And pour the waters of the Nile 
On every golden scale! 
`How cheerfully he seems to grin, 
How neatly spread his claws, 
And welcome little fishes in 
With gently smiling jaws!' 
`I'm sure those are not the right words,' said poor Alice, and her eyes filled 
with tears again as she went on, `I must be Mabel after all, and I shall have to 
go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no toys to play with, and 
oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I've made up my mind about it; if I'm Mabel, 
I'll stay down here! It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying "Come 
up again, dear!" I shall only look up and say "Who am I then? Tell me that first, 
and then, if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here 
till I'm somebody else"--but, oh dear!' cried Alice, with a sudden burst of tears, 
`I do wish they WOULD put their heads down! I am so VERY tired of being all alone 
here!' 
As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see that 
she had put on one of the Rabbit's little white kid gloves while she was talking. 
`How CAN I have done that?' she thought. `I must be growing small again.' She got 
up and went to the table to measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as 
she could guess, she was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: 
she soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she dropped 
it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. `That WAS a narrow 
escape!' said Alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad 
to find herself still in existence; `and now for the garden!' and she ran with all 
speed back to the little door: but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the 
little golden key was lying on the glass table as before, `and things are worse 
than ever,' thought the poor child, `for I never was so small as this before, never! 
And I declare it's too bad, that it is!' 
As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she 
was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen 
into the sea, `and in that case I can go back by railway,' she said to herself. 
(Alice had been to the seaside once in her life, and had come to the general conclusion, 
that wherever you go to on the English coast you find a number of bathing machines 
in the sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of 
lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) However, she soon made out that 
she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. 
`I wish I hadn't cried so much!' said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find 
her way out. `I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my 
own tears! That WILL be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer 
to-day.' 
Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and 
she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be a walrus 
or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she was now, and she soon made 
out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself. 
`Would it be of any use, now,' thought Alice, `to speak to this mouse? Everything 
is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very likely it can talk: at 
any rate, there's no harm in trying.' So she began: `O Mouse, do you know the way 
out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Mouse!' (Alice thought 
this must be the right way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing 
before, but she remembered having seen in her brother's Latin Grammar, `A mouse--of 
a mouse--to a mouse--a mouse--O mouse!' The Mouse looked at her rather inquisitively, 
and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing. 
`Perhaps it doesn't understand English,' thought Alice; `I daresay it's a French 
mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.' (For, with all her knowledge of history, 
Alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything had happened.) So she began 
again: `Ou est ma chatte?' which was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. 
The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with 
fright. `Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the 
poor animal's feelings. `I quite forgot you didn't like cats.' 
`Not like cats!' cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. `Would YOU like 
cats if you were me?' 
`Well, perhaps not,' said Alice in a soothing tone: `don't be angry about it. 
And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you'd take a fancy to cats 
if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet thing,' Alice went on, half 
to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, `and she sits purring so nicely 
by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face--and she is such a nice soft 
thing to nurse--and she's such a capital one for catching mice--oh, I beg your pardon!' 
cried Alice again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt 
certain it must be really offended. `We won't talk about her any more if you'd rather 
not.' 
`We indeed!' cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his tail. 
`As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always HATED cats: nasty, low, 
vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!' 
`I won't indeed!' said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation. 
`Are you--are you fond--of--of dogs?' The Mouse did not answer, so Alice went on 
eagerly: `There is such a nice little dog near our house I should like to show you! 
A little bright-eyed terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And 
it'll fetch things when you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, 
and all sorts of things--I can't remember half of them--and it belongs to a farmer, 
you know, and he says it's so useful, it's worth a hundred pounds! He says it kills 
all the rats and--oh dear!' cried Alice in a sorrowful tone, `I'm afraid I've offended 
it again!' For the Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and 
making quite a commotion in the pool as it went. 
So she called softly after it, `Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we won't 
talk about cats or dogs either, if you don't like them!' When the Mouse heard this, 
it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face was quite pale (with passion, 
Alice thought), and it said in a low trembling voice, `Let us get to the shore, 
and then I'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and 
dogs.' 
It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds 
and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an 
Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the way, and the whole party 
swam to the shore.
CHAPTER III 
A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale 
They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank--the birds 
with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all 
dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. 
The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a consultation 
about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself 
talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life. Indeed, she 
had quite a long argument with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only 
say, `I am older than you, and must know better'; and this Alice would not allow 
without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its 
age, there was no more to be said. 
At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, called 
out, `Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I'LL soon make you dry enough!' They 
all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the middle. Alice kept 
her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if 
she did not get dry very soon. 
`Ahem!' said the Mouse with an important air, `are you all ready? This is the 
driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! "William the Conqueror, whose 
cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by the English, who wanted 
leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin 
and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria--"' 
`Ugh!' said the Lory, with a shiver. 
`I beg your pardon!' said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: `Did you speak?'
`Not I!' said the Lory hastily. 
`I thought you did,' said the Mouse. `--I proceed. "Edwin and Morcar, the earls 
of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, the patriotic archbishop 
of Canterbury, found it advisable--"' 
`Found WHAT?' said the Duck. 
`Found IT,' the Mouse replied rather crossly: `of course you know what "it" means.'
`I know what "it" means well enough, when I find a thing,' said the Duck: `it's 
generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the archbishop find?' 
The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, `"--found it advisable 
to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the crown. William's conduct 
at first was moderate. But the insolence of his Normans--" How are you getting on 
now, my dear?' it continued, turning to Alice as it spoke. 
`As wet as ever,' said Alice in a melancholy tone: `it doesn't seem to dry me 
at all.' 
`In that case,' said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, `I move that the 
meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies--' 
`Speak English!' said the Eaglet. `I don't know the meaning of half those long 
words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!' And the Eaglet bent down 
its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly. 
`What I was going to say,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, `was, that the 
best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.' 
`What IS a Caucus-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the 
Dodo had paused as if it thought that SOMEBODY ought to speak, and no one else seemed 
inclined to say anything. 
`Why,' said the Dodo, `the best way to explain it is to do it.' (And, as you 
might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo 
managed it.) 
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (`the exact shape doesn't 
matter,' it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and 
there. There was no `One, two, three, and away,' but they began running when they 
liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race 
was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite 
dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out `The race is over!' and they all crowded 
round it, panting, and asking, `But who has won?' 
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and 
it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in 
which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited 
in silence. At last the Dodo said, `EVERYBODY has won, and all must have prizes.'
`But who is to give the prizes?' quite a chorus of voices asked. 
`Why, SHE, of course,' said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and 
the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, `Prizes! 
Prizes!' 
Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, 
and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had not got into it), and 
handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one a-piece all round. 
`But she must have a prize herself, you know,' said the Mouse. 
`Of course,' the Dodo replied very gravely. `What else have you got in your pocket?' 
he went on, turning to Alice. 
`Only a thimble,' said Alice sadly. 
`Hand it over here,' said the Dodo. 
Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly presented 
the thimble, saying `We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble'; and, when 
it had finished this short speech, they all cheered. 
Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that 
she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply 
bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could. 
The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and confusion, 
as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones 
choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it was over at last, and they 
sat down again in a ring, and begged the Mouse to tell them something more. 
`You promised to tell me your history, you know,' said Alice, `and why it is 
you hate--C and D,' she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended 
again.