The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice
sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this:—
`Beautiful Soup, so rich and
green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would
not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful
Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful
Soup!
Beau—ootiful
Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful
Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the
e—e—evening,
Beautiful,
beautiful Soup!
`Beautiful Soup! Who
cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else
for two
Pennyworth only of beautiful
Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful
Soup?
Beau—ootiful
Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful
Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the
e—e—evening,
Beautiful,
beauti—FUL soup!’
`Chorus again!’ cried the Gryphon, and the
Mock Turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a cry
of `The trial’s beginning!’ was heard
in the distance.
`Come on!’ cried the Gryphon, and, taking
Alice by the hand, it hurried off, without waiting
for the end of the song.
`What trial is it?’ Alice panted as she ran;
but the Gryphon only answered `Come on!’ and
ran the faster, while more and more faintly came,
carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy
words:—
`Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!’
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 Alice
quite hungry to look at them—`I wish they’d
get the trial done,’ she thought, `and hand
round the refreshments!’ But there seemed to
be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything
about her, to pass away the time.
Alice had never been in a court of justice before,
but she had read about them in books, and she was
quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly
everything there. `That’s the judge,’
she said to herself, `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,’ thought Alice,
`and those twelve creatures,’ (she was obliged
to say `creatures,’ you see, because some of
them were animals, and some were birds,) `I suppose
they are the jurors.’ She said this last
word two or three times over to herself, being rather
proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too,
that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning
of it at all. However, `jury-men’ would
have done just as well.
