'There's certainly too much pepper in that soup!' Alice said to herself, and began to sneeze.
Even the Duchess sneezed occasionally; and the baby was sneezing and howling all the time. Only the cook and a large cat did not sneeze. The cat was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.
'Please can you tell me,' said Alice timidly, 'why does your cat grin?'
'It's a Cheshire cat[7],' said the Duchess, 'and that's why. Pig!'
She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice jumped. But she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not to her. So she took courage, and went on again:
'I didn't know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn't know that cats could grin.'
'They all can,' said the Duchess; 'and most of them do.'
'I don't know anything about it,' Alice said very politely.
'You don't know much,' said the Duchess; 'and that's a fact.'
Alice did not like the tone of this remark. Meanwhile the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and began to throw everything at the Duchess and the baby-saucepans, plates, and dishes.
'Oh, please, don't do it!' cried Alice in terror. 'Oh, his precious nose!'
'Mind your own business,' the Duchess said in a hoarse growl. 'Oh, don't bother me! Here! You may nurse it a bit, if you like!' the Duchess said to Alice, and threw the baby at her. 'I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen,' and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went out.
Alice caught the baby with some difficulty. She carried it out into the open air.
'If I don't take this child away with me,' thought Alice, 'they will kill it in a day or two: it is murder to leave it there.'
She said the last words out loud, and the baby grunted in reply.
'Don't grunt,' said Alice; 'that's impolite.'
The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face. The baby sobbed (or grunted, it was impossible to say which), and they went on in silence.
'Now, what shall I do with the baby when I get it home?' said Alice when it grunted again. She looked down into its face. No mistake about it: it was a pig, and it was quite absurd for her to carry it further.
So she set the little pig down, and it trotted away quietly into the wood.
'It is a dreadfully ugly child,' she said to herself, 'but it is a handsome pig, I think.'
And she began to remember the children she knew, who might be good pigs.
'But how to change them?'
Suddenly she saw the Cheshire Cat. The Cat was sitting on a bough of a tree. The Cat grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she thought: but it had very long claws and many teeth.
'Cheshire Cat,' she began, rather timidly, and the Cat only grinned a little wider. 'Can you tell me, please, where to go?'
'That depends on where you want to go,' said the Cat.
'I don't care where,' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'I want to get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh, you will do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.'
Alice tried another question.
'What people live here?'
'In this direction,' the Cat said, 'lives a Hatter: and in that direction, lives a March Hare. Visit them: they're both mad.'
'But I don't want to see mad people,' Alice remarked.
'Oh, we're all mad here,' said the Cat. 'I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,' said the Cat, 'you are here.'
'And how do you know that you're mad?' she went on.
'A dog is not mad,' said the Cat, 'Do you believe that?'