Old Hat

They were at tea. A fight had commenced, largely centred around the fact that the Hare had commandeered one of the Hatter's toppers and cut two large holes for his ears.

"You said you did not own them," the Hare was saying. "You said they weren't, strictly speaking, yours. You said that you only sold them."

"Oh, hang what I said!" said the Hatter, in mourning over the mangled article of haberdashery. "I was speaking with the King at the time. One can hardly expect one to speak truth with kings, can one?"

"One might," Alice put in, "expect one to be supremely truthful when having audience with the King. After all, one reserves respect for one's ruler, does one not?"

They ignored her. She sighed, and returned to wringing out her hair. They really were the most inconsiderate of creatures, she thought; always fighting amongst themselves and not listening to the voice of reason: Alice herself, of course. But what could one do, in such a situation? It reminded her chiefly of her mother's frequent complaint, which boiled down to one word: Men! And, Alice amended, Hare! It didn't sound quite as potent— Men! Hare!— but adaptability was a virtue in any modern girl. Perhaps the Latin— Leporidae! Well, if nothing else it had the feeling of authority; and illusion was very important.

"At any rate," said the Hare, snatching the topper back from its maker and perching it once more on his head, "it does fit lovely, don't it? Er— doesn't it?" He preened.

"Who taught you to speak?" snapped the Hatter, gnashing his teeth slightly in his furor.

"Er— my mother," said the Hare, drooping his ears over the top of the hat till they dangled like a fringe in front of his eyes. This had the effect of making him look rather sheepish. "But she was a very bad teacher, you see; and I was a terrible pupil. Which, as you might imagine, did not help matters."

"I imagine no such thing," said the Hatter, drawing himself up straight in his high-backed chair. "I would not waste my time."

"Oh, it wouldn't be wasted," assured the Hare. "And Time is not yours to waste. So there."

"Hmmph," said the Hatter.

"Mm?" questioned the Hare.

"Eh," said the Hatter.

They were quiet for a moment, and Alice decided that this meant it was her turn to attempt to inject a little sanity into the conversation. She'd been waiting for this for a very long time. She cleared her throat, set down her tea cup, straightened her dress.

"Please—" she began, but the Hatter turned to her and said, crisply,

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth open."

It took poor Alice a full five minutes to work up the courage to voice her rejoinder, which was, "Excuse me, Mr. Hatter, but if I don't speak with my mouth open, no one could hear me."

"Exactly," said the Hatter, with no small amount of triumph.