Chapter 15

"Suppose we change the subject," the March Hare interrupted, yawning. "I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young English girl tells us a story."

     The hatter pointed to Emma's hands around his neck. "S-s-suppose we g-g-get her to stop ch-ch-choking me to d-d-death first."

     The hare reached over and whacked Emma on the buttocks. "Down, girl. Be a nice little human, all right?"

     Emma jumped away and rubbed her backside. Then she yawned, sat, and put her head on her folded arms.

     Alice rose, coughed, and began. "A long time ago … in a galaxy far, far away-"

     "Very good, my dear," applauded the hatter. "I rather liked that one."

     "But I've barely begun," Alice protested.

     "No, my fine golden-haired creature," the hare said, taking a sip of tea, "you mean you barely finished."

     "But, I …" Alice started to say.

     "Now it's time for the dormouse's story!" the hatter and the hare cried as Alice plopped down angrily. "Wake up, dormouse!" They pinched him on both sides at once.

     The dormouse slowly opened his eyes. "I wasn't asleep," he said in a hoarse, feeble voice. "I heard every word you fellows were saying."

     "Tell us a story!" said the March Hare.

     "No," the dormouse snapped. "Let the American girl choose something to do."

     "The spoonerism game," Emma mumbled, rolling her head to the opposite elbow.

     "Oh," shouted the hare. "What a splendid idea! Why, we haven't played the spoonerism game since King George III was crowned." He clapped his paws together, and it sounded much like real hands clapping. "Attention, attention! The game will start, and I will be first."

     "Don't we need spoons to play spoonerism?" Emma asked, knowing that she was being ridiculous.

     "You are one silly girl," commented the Mad Hatter.

     "One silly girl," echoed the dormouse, which then promptly fell back into a deep sleep.

     The hare pointed to the dormouse. "He's not very good at it anyway." Rising, the hare walked around-thinking.

     "Let's see," began the hare. "In honor of our American guest, my first spoonerism will be …" He stopped behind Emma. "… Jomas Tefferson." He looked around the table. "Anyone care to hazard a guess?"

     "Jomas Tefferson," Alice scratched her head. "I've never heard of the Christian name Jomas before. It makes absolutely no sense at all."

     "The sense that is no sense makes no sense," said the hatter. "Do you catch the essence of what I am saying?"

     "Thomas Jefferson," announced Emma.

     "That's right!" cheered the hare. "You know the game, and your friend here," he pointed at Alice, "is a toadying ignoramus!"

     Alice forcefully shoved her teacup away from her. "I am not. What a rude thing to say."

     The hare sat and gestured toward Emma. "You won the round. It's your turn."

     "I don't understand," Alice said. "How did she get Thomas Jefferson from what the March Hare said?"

     "Quiet!" the hatter snapped, throwing one hand in the air. "Sit in silence and learn. When you understand, you can play. But no one is going to explain it to you … dummy!"

     "Ohhhhh!" cried Alice, sitting back and folding her arms in disgust. "I simply hate tea parties. I shall never go to another."

     "Veen Quictoria," offered Emma.

     "Ah," cried the hatter, pointing at Emma. "Queen Victoria."

     "Right!" said Emma, and she began applauding with a silly grin on her face. "Oh, wow! That was right."

     "Are you sure it's not left?" the dormouse asked, after raising his head.

     "Go back in your cave," the hatter replied, and then he flicked his finger against the side of the dormouse's head, who instantly fell back to sleep.

     "My turn! My turn!" the hatter said, jumping up and down in his seat as though he were an overexcited four-year-old. "Set me lee … shut would chy moice be?"

     "Huh?" Alice leaned forward and looked at the March Hare. "Is he speaking a foreign language?"

     "No!" said the hare with great admiration. "He's spoonerizing in the extreme. Isn't it beautiful?"

     Emma leaned over and whispered in Alice's ear, "He said, 'Let me see … what should my choice be?"

     "You speak that language?" Alice whispered back. "Is that some sort of American sub-tongue of English?"

     "Quiet, please!" the March Hare snapped. "The master is at work." He pointed to the Mad Hatter.

     "Piscount Valmerston the Mime Prinister of Breat Gritain." The hatter sat back and grinned widely.

     "Oh, my," Emma said, applauding. "That was brilliant!" She stopped applauding and looked around the table. "You make the rest of us look like dinky-darny thimble brains and tweezer heads."

     The Mad Hatter grinned, rubbing his knuckles on his lapel proudly. "Perhaps you all are." Then he pointed to Alice. "What is it, please?"

     Alice thought and tried to make sense of all the nonsense syllables. "Briscount Galmerston the Grime Minister of Pate Vitten."

     "Bravo!" cried the Mad Hatter. "Bravo! You got minister right."

     The dormouse raised his head again. "One out of six ain't bad."

     This time the March Hare flicked him in the head. "Isn't bad. There ain't no such word as ain't … unless you're in America."

     The dormouse went back to sleep as the hatter looked at Emma. "Go ahead, my beauty, you know it."

     Pleased at hearing herself compared with beauty, Emma smiled broadly. "Viscount Palmerston the Prime Minister of Great Britain."

     Alice snapped to attention. "He is! He is the Prime Minister. Oh … but I still don't understand the game."

     "Explain it to her," the hare requested of the hatter.

     The hatter removed his hat and set it on the table. "You see, my dear, you take two words, remove the consonant sounds down to the first vowel …" He shot two pointing fingers, one from each hand past the other, "and exchange them."

     "That way," the hare took over, "Mad Hatter becomes Had Matter."

     "And March Hare," added the hatter, "becomes Harch Mare."

     "But what about Willy Wonka?" asked a teasing, giggling Emma.

     "Stay out of it," snapped the hare.

     Emma took a moment and then laughed out loud. Then she started to cry as the cordial was still affecting her emotions in strange ways. "Oh, what's the difference?"

     "There is no difference," replied the hatter. "That's the point."

     "Of course there's a difference," insisted Emma, feeling her anger start to rise.

     "Well," the hatter said. "Then it makes no difference."

     "There's always a difference!" spat Emma.

     "The difference that is a difference makes no difference," the hatter retorted. "That's the law."

     "Must you spout off about nonsense things all the time?" asked Alice, a bit frustrated.

     "If your ears offend thee, then cut them off," said the hatter.

     Alice could not bear the rudeness of that last remark. She rose in great disgust, and walked off.

     "Wait for me, Alice!" Emma said, getting up and staggering off after her.

     The dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of Alice going. The last time she looked back, they were trying to stuff the dormouse into the teapot.

     "At any rate I'll never go there again," said Alice as she picked her way through the woods. "It's the stupidest tea party I ever was at in all my life!"

     "Stupid," Emma agreed, just before plopping down on a big rock. "Oh, Alice, I think I'm going to be sick."

     Alice went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's the cordial. I think that had more than the ordinary amount of spirits in it." Then she sat on the rock next to Emma, put an arm around her shoulder, and tried to think of a way to make her feel better. "Did you really name your cat after mine?"

     "I love my Dinah; and every time I see her, I think of you and your Dinah."

     "Tell me about her."

     "Well … she's all white, about five months old …" and for no reason that Emma could figure, she started crying. "And I love her dearly."

     "There, there. I'm sure your Dinah is every bit as good a cat as mine."

     "I saw your Dinah."

     "You did?"

     Emma pointed off in one direction, changed her mind and pointed in another, and then pointed in a third. "Oh, somewhere, before falling in the rabbit hole, I met your sister."

     Alice looked a little glum. "How was she?"

     "She was fine mostly. But she was looking for you … and she was carrying your red and white marmalade Dinah."

     "I miss my Dinah … and my sister. She reads stories to me you know."

     "Dinah can read?"

     "No." Alice laughed.

     "After the things that have happened today, I'm willing to believe anything is possible."