Chapter 6Pig and Pepper

For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in fancy dress came running out of the woods - (she figured he was a footman because of the fancy clothes: otherwise, just by looking at his face, she would have called him a fish) - and knocked loudly at the door with his knuckles.

It was opened by another footman in fancy dress, with a round face and big eyes like a frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their heads. She felt super curious to know what was going on, and crept a little way out of the woods to listen.

The Fish-Footman started by pulling a giant letter, almost as big as himself, from under his arm, and handed it over to the other, saying in a serious tone, "For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet."

The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same serious tone, just changing the order of the words a bit, "From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet."

Then they both bowed really low, and their curls got tangled together.

Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the woods for fear of them hearing her; and when she next peeked out, the Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring blankly up into the sky.

Alice went up to the door, nervous, and knocked.

"There’s no point in knocking," said the Footman, "and that for two reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are; second, because they’re making such a racket inside, no one could possibly hear you."

And for sure, there was a totally crazy noise going on inside - constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a big crash, like a dish or kettle had been smashed to pieces.

"Please, then," said Alice, "how am I to get in?"

"There might be some sense in your knocking," the Footman went on without paying attention to her, "if we had the door between us. For example, if you were inside, you could knock, and I could let you out, you know."

He was looking up into the sky the whole time he was talking, and Alice thought that was seriously rude.

"But maybe he can’t help it," she said to herself; "his eyes are so high up on his head. But at least he could answer questions. - How am I to get in?" she repeated, out loud.

"I’m going to sit here," said the Footman, "until tomorrow - "

Just then, the door of the house opened, and a huge plate came zooming out, straight at the Footman’s head: it just grazed his nose, and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him.

" - or maybe next day," the Footman continued in the same tone, like nothing had happened.

"How am I to get in?" asked Alice again, in a louder voice.

"Are you even supposed to get in?" said the Footman. "That’s the first question, you know."

It was, no doubt: only Alice didn’t like being told so.

"It’s really wild," she muttered to herself, "the way all the creatures argue. It’s enough to drive someone totally bonkers!"

The Footman seemed to think this was a good chance to repeat his remark, with a few changes.

"I’m going to sit here," he said, "on and off, for days and days."

"But what am I supposed to do?" said Alice.

"Anything you like," said the Footman, and started whistling.

"Oh, there’s no use in talking to him," said Alice desperately: "he’s completely idiotic!"

And she opened the door and went in.

The door led straight into a big kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a huge pot that seemed to be full of soup.

"There’s definitely too much pepper in that soup!" Alice said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing.

There was way too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed sometimes; and the baby? It was just sneezing and wailing, non-stop. The only things in the kitchen that weren't sneezing were the cook, and a huge cat sitting on the hearth, grinning like crazy.

"Could you tell me, please?" said Alice, a little shy, because she wasn't sure if it was polite to speak first, "why your cat is grinning like that?"

"It’s a Cheshire cat," said the Duchess, "and that’s why. Pig!"

She said the last word with a sudden burst of anger that made Alice jump. But she realized a second later it was meant for the baby, not her, so she took a deep breath and kept going.

"I didn’t know Cheshire cats always grinned. I didn’t even know cats could grin."

"They all can," said the Duchess. "And most of them do."

"I don’t know any that do," Alice said politely, feeling happy to be having a conversation.

"You don’t know much," said the Duchess. "That’s a fact."

Alice didn't like the way she said that, and thought it would be a good idea to change the subject.

While she was trying to think of something to say, the cook grabbed the pot of soup off the fire and started throwing everything she could reach at the Duchess and the baby - fire-irons first, then a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes.

The Duchess didn’t even notice when they hit her, and the baby was already wailing so loudly, it was impossible to tell if the hits even hurt.

"Oh, please be careful!" cried Alice, jumping up and down in fear. "Oh no, there goes his precious nose!" as a really big saucepan flew past and almost carried it away.

"If everyone minded their own business," the Duchess growled, "the world would go a lot faster than it does."

"That wouldn’t be good," said Alice, feeling glad to show off a little of what she knew. "Just think of how messed up the day and night would be! You see, the earth takes twenty-four hours to spin around - "

"Talking about spinning," said the Duchess, "chop off her head!"

Alice nervously looked at the cook to see if she was serious, but the cook was busy stirring the soup and didnn't seem to be listening, so she kept going: "Twenty-four hours, I think. Or is it twelve? I - "

"Oh, don’t bother me," said the Duchess. "I never could stand numbers!"

And with that, she started rocking her baby again, singing a kind of lullaby and giving it a hard shake at the end of each line:

"Be rough with your little boy, And smack him when he sneezes: He only does it to annoy, Because he knows it’s teasing."

Chorus. (The cook and the baby joined in):

"Wow! wow! wow!"

While the Duchess sang the second verse, she kept tossing the baby up and down, and the poor little thing wailed so much, Alice could barely hear the words:

"I scold my boy, I smack him when he sneezes; Because he loves The pepper when he pleases!" Chorus.

"Wow! wow! wow!"

"Here! You can hold him for a bit, if you want!" the Duchess said to Alice, tossing the baby at her. "I have to go get ready to play croquet with the Queen!"

And she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a frying pan after her, but she just missed.

Alice caught the baby, which was a bit of a struggle - it was a really weird shape, with its arms and legs sticking out every which way, "just like a starfish," she thought.

The poor little thing was snorting like a steam engine when she caught it, and kept curling up and stretching out again, so for the first minute or two, it was all she could do to hold it.

Once she figured out how to hold it properly (which was to twist it into a knot and hold onto its right ear and left foot so it wouldn’t unravel), she carried it outside.

"If I don’t take this kid with me," Alice thought, "they’re totally gonna kill it in a day or two. It would be murder to leave it behind!"

She said the last words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had stopped sneezing by then). "Don’t grunt," said Alice; "that’s not a good way to talk."

The baby grunted again, and Alice looked really worriedly into its face to see what was wrong. There was no doubt about it - it had a super-turned-up nose, more like a snout than a real nose. Also, its eyes were getting tiny for a baby: altogether, Alice didn’t like the look of the thing at all.

"But maybe it was just crying," she thought, and looked into its eyes again to see if there were any tears.

No tears.

"If you’re gonna turn into a pig, my dear," said Alice, seriously, "I’m done with you. Got it?"

The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to tell which), and they were quiet for a while.

Alice was just starting to think, "Now, what am I gonna do with this creature when I get it home?" when it grunted again, so violently that she looked down into its face in alarm.

This time, there was no mistake about it - it was a pig, and she felt it would be totally absurd for her to carry it any further.

So she set the little creature down, and felt really relieved to see it trot away quietly into the woods.

"If it had grown up," she said to herself, "it would have been a dreadfully ugly kid: but it makes a pretty handsome pig, I think."

And she started thinking about other kids she knew, who might do well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, "if only I knew the right way to change them - " when she was a little startled to see the Cheshire Cat sitting on a branch of a tree a few yards off.

The Cat just grinned when it saw Alice. It looked friendly, she thought, but still it had long claws and a lot of teeth, so she felt like it deserved some respect.

"Cheshire Puss," she began, a little shy, because she wasn’t sure if it would like the name.

But it just grinned a little wider.

"Come on, it seems happy so far," thought Alice, and she went on.

"Could you tell me, please, which way I should go from here?"

"That depends a good bit on where you want to end up," said the Cat.

"I don’t really care where - " said Alice.

"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.

" - as long as I get somewhere," Alice added to explain.

"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you just walk long enough."

Alice felt like that was true, so she tried another question.

"What kind of people live around here?"

"In that direction," the Cat said, waving its right paw, "lives a Hatter. And in that direction," waving the other paw, "lives a March Hare. Visit either one - they’re both a little crazy."

"But I don’t want to go around crazy people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can’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 anything, though.

"But how do you know you’re mad?"

"To start with," said the Cat, "a dog isn’t mad. You’ll agree with that, right?"

"I guess so," said Alice.

"Okay," the Cat went on, "you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it’s happy. Now I growl when I’m happy, and wag my tail when I’m angry. So, I’m mad."

"I’d call that purring, not growling," said Alice.

"Call it whatever you want," said the Cat. "Are you playing croquet with the Queen today?"

"I’d love to," said Alice, "but I haven’t gotten an invite yet."

"You’ll see me there," said the Cat, and disappeared.

Alice wasn’t that surprised - she was getting used to weird stuff happening. While she was looking at where the Cat had been, it suddenly popped back up.

"Oh, by the way, what happened to the baby?" said the Cat. "I totally forgot to ask."

"It turned into a pig," Alice said quietly, like it was totally normal.

"I figured it would," said the Cat, and vanished again.

Alice waited a bit, half expecting it to show up again, but it didn’t. After a couple of minutes, she walked on in the direction where the March Hare lived.

"I’ve met hatters before," she said to herself. "The March Hare will be way more interesting, and maybe, since it’s May, it won’t be completely bonkers - at least not as bonkers as it was in March."

As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat again, chilling on a branch of a tree.

"Did you say pig, or fig?" said the Cat.

"I said pig," replied Alice. "And I wish you wouldn’t keep showing up and disappearing so fast - it’s making me dizzy."

"Alright," said the Cat, and this time it vanished slowly, starting with the tip of its tail and ending with the grin, which hung around for a while after the rest of it was gone.

"Wow!" thought Alice.

"I’ve seen a cat without a grin, sure, but a grin without a cat! That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!"

She didn’t go much farther before she saw the house of the March Hare. She figured it had to be the right house because the chimneys looked like ears and the roof was covered in fur.

"It was a huge house, so she didn’t want to get closer until she’s nibbled a bit more of the left side of the mushroom, and grown to about two feet tall. Even then, she walked up to it kind of shyly, saying to herself "What if it’s totally bonkers after all?

"I almost wish I’d gone to see the Hatter instead!"