Chapter 12Alice’s Evidence

"Here!" cried Alice, totally forgetting how much bigger she’s gotten in the last few minutes, and she jumped up so fast she knocked over the jury box with the edge of her skirt.

All the jurymen tumbled down onto the crowd below, and they were sprawled everywhere, reminding her a lot of a globe of goldfish she accidentally tipped over last week.

"Oh, I’m so sorry!" she exclaimed, super embarrassed, and started picking them up as quickly as she could.

The goldfish thing kept popping into her head, and she had a weird feeling that they needed to be collected and put back in the jury box, or they’d die.

"The trial can’t go on," said the King in a serious voice, "until all the jurymen are back in their seats - all," he repeated, staring hard at Alice.

Alice looked at the jury box and realized she’s put the Lizard upside down, and the poor little thing was waving its tail sadly, totally stuck. She got it out and flipped it right-side up.

"It probably doesn’t even matter," she thought to herself.

"It should be just as useful in the trial either way up."

Once the jury had mostly recovered from being knocked over, and their slates and pencils were found and handed back, they started working really hard to write down what happened.

Except for the Lizard, who seemed too shocked to do anything but sit with its mouth open, staring up at the ceiling of the court.

"What do you know about all this?" the King asked Alice.

"Nothing," said Alice.

"Absolutely nothing?" the King pressed.

"Nothing at all," said Alice.

"That’s really important," the King said, turning to the jury.

Just as they were about to write it down, the White Rabbit interrupted: "Unimportant, your Majesty means, right?" he said respectfully, but making silly faces at the King as he spoke.

"Unimportant, of course, I meant," the King quickly corrected, and mumbled to himself,

"important - unimportant - unimportant - important - " like he was trying to figure out which word sounded better.

Some of the jury wrote "important," and some wrote "unimportant." Alice could see it because she was close enough to peek at their slates.

"But it really doesn’t matter," she thought.

Just then, the King, who had been busy scribbling in his notebook, suddenly shouted "Silence!" and read from his book, "Rule Forty-two. Anyone taller than a mile must leave the court."

Everyone stared at Alice.

"I’m not a mile tall," said Alice.

"You are," said the King.

"Nearly two miles tall," added the Queen.

"Well, I’m not going anywhere," said Alice. "Besides, that’s not a real rule. You just made it up."

"It’s the oldest rule in the book," said the King.

"Then it should be Number One," said Alice.

The King turned pale and quickly closed his notebook.

"Give your verdict," he said to the jury in a quiet, shaky voice.

"There’s still more evidence coming, your Majesty," said the White Rabbit, jumping up in a big hurry. "This paper just got picked up."

"What’s on it?" said the Queen.

"I haven’t opened it yet," said the White Rabbit. "But it looks like a letter, written by the prisoner to - to someone."

"It must be that," said the King, "unless it was written to nobody, which isn’t really usual, you know."

"Who’s it addressed to?" said one of the jurymen.

"It’s not addressed at all," said the White Rabbit. "In fact, there’s nothing written on the outside."

He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and added, "It’s not a letter after all. It’s a bunch of verses."

"Are they written in the prisoner’s handwriting?" asked another juryman.

"No, they’re not," said the White Rabbit, "and that’s the weirdest thing about it."

(The jury all looked confused.)

"He must have copied someone else’s handwriting," said the King.

(The jury all perked up again.)

"Please, your Majesty," said the Knave, "I didn’t write it, and they can’t prove I did: there’s no signature at the end."

"If you didn’t sign it," said the King, "that just makes things worse. You must have been up to something, or else you’d have signed your name like an honest person."

Everyone clapped - it was the first genuinely smart thing the King had said all day.

"That proves he’s guilty," said the Queen.

"It proves nothing!" said Alice. "You don’t even know what it’s about!"

"Read it," said the King.

The White Rabbit put on his glasses.

"Where should I start, your Majesty?" he asked.

"Start at the beginning," the King said seriously, "and go on until you reach the end: then stop."

These were the verses the White Rabbit read: -

"They told me you’d been to her, And mentioned me to him: She gave me a good review, But said I couldn’t swim. He sent them a message that I hadn’t gone (We know it’s true): If she keeps pushing, What will happen to you?"

I gave her one, they gave him two, You gave us three or more; They all came back to you, Even though they were mine first. If I or she gets involved in this mess, He’s counting on you to set them free, Just like we were.

"My idea was that you’d been (Before she had this freak out) A roadblock between Him, us, and it. Don’t let him know she liked them best, Because this has to be A secret, kept from everyone else, Just between you and me."

"That’s the most important clue we’ve heard so far," said the King, rubbing his hands together; "so now let the jury - "

"If anyone can explain it," said Alice, (she’s gotten so big in the last few minutes she’s not scared to interrupt him,) "I’ll give them five bucks. I don’t think there’s any meaning to it at all."

The jury all wrote on their slates, "She doesn’t think there’s any meaning to it," but none of them tried to explain the paper.

"If there’s no meaning to it," said the King, "that saves us a whole lot of trouble, you know, because we don’t have to try to figure it out. And yet," he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with one eye; "I seem to see some meaning in them, after all."

"‘ - said I could not swim - ’ can you swim?" he asked, turning to the Knave.

The Knave shook his head sadly.

"Do I look like it?" he said.

(Which he definitely did not, being made entirely of cardboard.)

"Okay, so far so good," said the King, and he went on muttering over the verses to himself: "‘We know it to be true - ’ that’s the jury, of course - ‘I gave her one, they gave him two - ’ why, that must be what he did with the tarts, you know - "

"But, it says ‘they all came back to you,’" said Alice.

"There they are!" said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts on the table. "Nothing could be clearer than that. Then again - ‘before she had this freak out - ’ you never have freak outs, my dear, do you?" he said to the Queen.

"Never!" said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as she spoke.

(The unfortunate little Bill had stopped writing on his slate with one finger, as it wasn’t making a mark; but he quickly started again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted.)

"Then the words don’t fit you," said the King, looking around the court with a smile.

There was a total silence.

"It’s a pun!" the King added in an annoyed tone, and everyone laughed.

"Let the jury consider their verdict," the King said, for about the twentieth time that day.

"No, no!" said the Queen. "Verdict first - sentence afterwards."

"That’s ridiculous!" Alice shouted. "The idea of getting the sentence first!"

"Zip it!" the Queen snapped, turning red.

"I won’t!" Alice said.

"Off with her head!" the Queen yelled, as loud as she could.

Nobody moved a muscle.

"Who even cares about you?" Alice asked, having grown to her full height. "You’re just a deck of cards!"

At that, the entire deck floated into the air and came zooming down at her. She let out a little scream, a mix of fear and anger, and tried to swat them away.

Then, she found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing dead leaves that had fallen from the trees onto her face.

"Wake up, Alice dear!" her sister said. "Why, you’ve been asleep for so long!"

"Oh my gosh, I had the craziest dream!" Alice said, telling her sister everything she could remember about all those wild adventures she’s just been reading about.

When she was finished, her sister kissed her and said, "That was a seriously weird dream, sweetie! Now, go grab some tea; it's getting late." So Alice jumped up and ran off, thinking about what a total blast of a dream it had been.

But her sister stayed put, leaning her head on her hand, watching the sun set and thinking about little Alice and all her amazing adventures. Soon, she started dreaming too, and this is what she dreamed: -

First, she dreamed of little Alice again, and once more the tiny hands were clasped on her knee, and the bright, excited eyes were looking up at her - she could hear the exact tone of her voice, and see that quirky little head-shake to keep her hair out of her eyes - and as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her came alive with the strange creatures from her little sister’s dream.

The tall grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by - the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the nearby pool - she could hear the clatter of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the Queen’s sharp voice ordering her unfortunate guests to be executed - once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed all around it - once more the Gryphon’s shriek, the Lizard’s squeaking slate-pencil, and the guinea-pigs struggling to breathe, filled the air, mixed with the faraway sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle.

So she sat there, with her eyes closed, and almost believed she was really in Wonderland, even though she knew that if she just opened her eyes, everything would change to boring reality - the grass would just be rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling with the waving reeds - the rattling teacups would turn into tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s loud cries into the voice of the shepherd boy - and the baby’s sneeze, the Gryphon’s shriek, and all the other weird noises,

would change (she knew) into the confused sounds of the busy farm-yard - while the cows lowing in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.

Finally, she pictured how this same little sister of hers would, in the future, be a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her adult years, the kind and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather her own little children around her, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, maybe even with the dream of Wonderland from long ago: and how she would feel all their simple sadness, and find happiness in all their simple joys, remembering her own childhood, and those happy summer days.