== Who Stole the Tarts?
The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they
arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them---all sorts of little
birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was
standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard
him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand,
and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court
was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good,
that it made pov/O quite hungry to look at them---“I wish they'd get the
trial done,” pov/s thought, “and hand round the refreshments!” But there
seemed to be no chance of this, so pov/s began looking at everything
about pov/o, to pass away the time.

Pov/S had never been in a court of justice before, but pov/s had read
about them in books, and pov/s vrb/be/ quite pleased to find that pov/s
knew the name of nearly everything there. “That's the judge,” pov/s said
to pov/r, “because of his great wig.”

The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the
wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he did
not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming.

“And that's the jury-box,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S
thought/thought pov/S/, “and those twelve creatures,” (pov/s was obliged
to say “creatures,” you see, because some of them were animals, and some
were birds,) “I suppose they are the jurors.” Pov/s said this last word
two or three times over to pov/r, being rather proud of it: for pov/s
thought, and rightly too, that very few little prn/ns of pov/p age knew
the meaning of it at all. However, “jury-men” would have done just as
well.

The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. “What are they
doing?” pov/S whispered to the Gryphon. “They can't have anything to put
down yet, before the trial's begun.”

“They're putting down their names,” the Gryphon whispered in reply, “for
fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.”

“Stupid things!” pov/S began in a loud, indignant voice, but pov/s
stopped hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, “Silence in the court!”
and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make
out who was talking.

Pov/S could see, as well as if pov/s were looking over their shoulders,
that all the jurors were writing down “stupid things!” on their slates,
and pov/s could even make out that one of them didn't know how to spell
“stupid,” and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. “A nice
muddle their slates'll be in before the trial's over!” alt/first and
second or third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/.

One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, pov/S
could #emph[not] stand, and pov/s went round the court and got behind
him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. Pov/s did it
so quickly that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could
not make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about
for it, he was obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day;
and this was of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate.

“Herald, read the accusation!” said the King.

On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then
unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:---

#include "poems/queen-of-hearts.typ"

“Consider your verdict,” the King said to the jury.

“Not yet, not yet!” the Rabbit hastily interrupted. “There's a great
deal to come before that!”

“Call the first witness,” said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three
blasts on the trumpet, and called out, “First witness!”

The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand
and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. “I beg pardon, your
Majesty,” he began, “for bringing these in: but I hadn't quite finished
my tea when I was sent for.”

“You ought to have finished,” said the King. “When did you begin?”

The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the
court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. “Fourteenth of March, I
#emph[think] it was,” he said.

“Fifteenth,” said the March Hare.

“Sixteenth,” added the Dormouse.

“Write that down,” the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote
down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and
reduced the answer to shillings and pence.

“Take off your hat,” the King said to the Hatter.

“It isn't mine,” said the Hatter.

“#emph[Stolen!];” the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly
made a memorandum of the fact.

“I keep them to sell,” the Hatter added as an explanation; “I've none of
my own. I'm a hatter.”

Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter,
who turned pale and fidgeted.

“Give your evidence,” said the King; “and don't be nervous, or I'll have
you executed on the spot.”

This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from
one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his
confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the
bread-and-butter.

Just at this moment pov/S felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled
pov/o a good deal until pov/s made out what it was: pov/s vrb/be/
beginning to grow larger again, and pov/s thought at first pov/s would
get up and leave the court; but on second thoughts pov/s decided to
remain where pov/s was as long as there was room for pov/o.

“I wish you wouldn't squeeze so.” said the Dormouse, who was sitting
next to pov/o. “I can hardly breathe.”

“I can't help it,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/
very meekly: “I'm growing.”

“You've no right to grow #emph[here];,” said the Dormouse.

“Don't talk nonsense,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said
pov/S/ more boldly: “you know you're growing too.”

“Yes, but #emph[I] grow at a reasonable pace,” said the Dormouse: “not
in that ridiculous fashion.” And he got up very sulkily and crossed over
to the other side of the court.

All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and,
just as the Dormouse crossed the court, pov/s said to one of the
officers of the court, “Bring me the list of the singers in the last
concert!” on which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both
his shoes off.

“Give your evidence,” the King repeated angrily, “or I'll have you
executed, whether you're nervous or not.”

“I'm a poor man, your Majesty,” the Hatter began, in a trembling voice,
“---and I hadn't begun my tea---not above a week or so---and what with
the bread-and-butter getting so thin---and the twinkling of the tea---”

“The twinkling of the #emph[what?];” said the King.

“It #emph[began] with the tea,” the Hatter replied.

“Of course twinkling begins with a T!” said the King sharply. “Do you
take me for a dunce? Go on!”

“I'm a poor man,” the Hatter went on, “and most things twinkled after
that---only the March Hare said---”

“I didn't!” the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry.

“You did!” said the Hatter.

“I deny it!” said the March Hare.

“He denies it,” said the King: “leave out that part.”

“Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said---” the Hatter went on, looking
anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied
nothing, being fast asleep.

“After that,” continued the Hatter, “I cut some more
bread-and-butter---”

“But what did the Dormouse say?” one of the jury asked.

“That I can't remember,” said the Hatter.

“You #emph[must] remember,” remarked the King, “or I'll have you
executed.”

The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went
down on one knee. “I'm a poor man, your Majesty,” he began.

“You're a #emph[very] poor #emph[speaker];,” said the King.

Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by
the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just
explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied
up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig,
head first, and then sat upon it.)

“I'm glad I've seen that done,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S
thought/thought pov/S/. “I've so often read in the newspapers, at the
end of trials, “There was some attempts at applause, which was
immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,” and I never
understood what it meant till now.”

“If that's all you know about it, you may stand down,” continued the
King.

“I can't go no lower,” said the Hatter: “I'm on the floor, as it is.”

“Then you may #emph[sit] down,” the King replied.

Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.

“Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!” alt/first and second or
third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/. “Now we shall get on better.”

“I'd rather finish my tea,” said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the
Queen, who was reading the list of singers.

“You may go,” said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court,
without even waiting to put his shoes on.

“---and just take his head off outside,” the Queen added to one of the
officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get
to the door.

“Call the next witness!” said the King.

The next witness was the Duchess's cook. She carried the pepper-box in
her hand, and pov/S guessed who it was, even before pov/s got into the
court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once.

“Give your evidence,” said the King.

“Shan't,” said the cook.

The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice,
“Your Majesty must cross-examine #emph[this] witness.”

“Well, if I must, I must,” the King said, with a melancholy air, and,
after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were
nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, “What are tarts made of?”

“Pepper, mostly,” said the cook.

“Treacle,” said a sleepy voice behind her.

“Collar that Dormouse,” the Queen shrieked out. “Behead that Dormouse!
Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his
whiskers!”

For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse
turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had
disappeared.

“Never mind!” said the King, with an air of great relief. “Call the next
witness.” And he added in an undertone to the Queen, “Really, my dear,
#emph[you] must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my
forehead ache!”

Pov/S watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very
curious to see what the next witness would be like, “---for they haven't
got much evidence #emph[yet];,” pov/s said to pov/r. Imagine pov/p
surprise, when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill
little voice, the name “Y/n!”
