Of Hatter and Hare

"He doesn't fit," said the Hatter. "Someone has been feeding him. Was it you?"

"Not I, not I," replied the March Hare, "certainly not I."

At a table laid out for tea, the Hatter and the March Hare were attempting to stuff the Dormouse into a teapot. While they were occupied in this way, Mary Ann, the White Rabbit's housemaid, plopped into an armchair, her pretty little face flushed with anger. It was the same chair a young girl named Alice had vacated a few minutes before.

"No room! No room!" shouted the Hatter and the March Hare, dropping the Dormouse, who promptly went back to sleep.

"I'm in no mood for your nonsense," said Mary Ann, with a toss of her little head.

"Then why have you returned?" asked the Hatter.

"Indeed," said the March Hare. "Why have you returned?"

"Returned?" said Mary Ann. "Why, I have only just arrived."

"Correction!" said the Hatter. "You have only just departed."

"Ran off in a huff, you did," said the March Hare.

"In a huff," murmured the Dormouse.

"How very curious," said Mary Ann. "Just now, Sir Rabbit made a similar accusation."

The Hatter leered at the March Hare. "A cousin?"

"No cousin of mine!" shouted the March Hare, slamming his paw on the table, and rattling some dishes.

"I am quite vexed," said Mary Ann, with a cute little pout.

"Still?" asked the Hatter.

"Sir Rabbit has let me go."

"In his clutches, were you?" asked the March Hare.

"He relieved me of my position."

"Just took it, eh?" said the Hatter.

"Said I was insubordinate, of all things."

"I'm not familiar with such a place. Where is it located?"

"It's not a place."

"Then how can you be in it?"

"It's like a chest of drawers," said the March Hare.

"Not really," said Mary Ann. "It's more like an attitude."

"Or a symphony," said the Hatter.

"Or a caprice," said the March Hare.

"Now you're just being silly," said Mary Ann.

"They drew treacle in the well," murmured the Dorouse. "It was a treacle well, you see."

In response to this interruption, the Hatter and the March Hare poked the Dormouse repeatedly with their fingers.

"To be so mistreated," said Mary Ann, sadly.

"It's for his own good," said the March Hare.

"Whatever will I do?"

"Does he mean that much to you?" asked the Hatter.

"Sir Rabbit was beside himself."

"Does he know the Dormouse?"

"Said I was a monster."

"You are a monster," said the Hatter.

"I beg your pardon."

"All children are monsters, don't you know."

"Decidedly so," said the March Hare.

"Not all," said Mary Ann, "certainly not all."

"They come into my shop," said the Hatter, "and put their sticky little fingers all over everything."

Mary Ann looked at her little fingers, checking to see if they were sticky.

"They pull my tail and ears," said the March Hare.

"Mine… too…" murmured the Dormouse.

"I'm sure you can avoid them," said Mary Ann.

"As much as possible," said the March Hare.

"Not I," said the Hatter.

"Why not?" asked Mary Ann.

"Mothers bring them into my shop. Why won't they leave them at home?"

"It's not always possible," said Mary Ann, trying to be reasonable.

"When I see them coming, I want to hide."

"Why don't you try another line of business?"

"Why don't you mind your own business?"

"I was only asking."

"You are a child, are you not?"

"Yes, I most certainly am."

"Keep your sticky fingers over there."

"I'll have you know, my fingers are not sticky, not sticky at all."

"All children have sticky fingers, the horrid creatures."

Before Mary Ann could respond, the White Rabbit came bounding onto the scene. "Mary Ann!" he said, angrily. "Why are you here? Return at once, and clean up the mess you made."

Rising slowly from her seat, Mary Ann crossed her arms, and glared at the White Rabbit. "No sir!" she said, sternly. "Not until you apologize."

The White Rabbit took a step back. His jaw dropped. "Apologize? Me? For what, pray tell?"

"For slander."

"Slander? Oh my paws and whiskers! What has gotten into this child?!"

"Your baseless and false accusations have sullied mine, and my father's, and my mother's, and my uncle's, and my aunt's good name - not to mention my cousins."

"But I have witnesses."

"Witnesses? Ha! If your witnesses saw anything at all, it was not I they saw whenever they saw whatever they saw, if they saw anything at all."

"Oh, I say," said the Hatter.

"I'm warming to this child," said the March Hare.

The White Rabbit hesitated.

"Will he lose his nerve?" whispered the Hatter to the March Hare.

"It is all he has," whispered the March Hare in return.

"I'll wager a bob he does."

"I'll take that wager."

The Hatter and the March Hare clasped hand and paw.

The White Rabbit fidgeted, and checked his pocket-watch again, and again.

The Hatter and the March Hare looked on with eager anticipation.

"Perhaps," the White Rabbit began.

The Hatter and the March Hare leaned closer.

"Perhaps I was a bit hasty," said the White Rabbit, checking his pocket-watch again, "and my home must be put in order."

"Precisely so," said Mary Ann.

"Will you see to it, young lady?"

"Yes sir."

"Excellent."

Having come to an agreement of sorts, Mary Ann went one way, and the White Rabbit went another.

"I won," said the Hatter, holding out a hand. "Pay up."

"No, no, no," said the March Hare. "He did not apologize, he most certainly did not."

"He was conciliatory, however."

"Not the same."

"Close enough."

"Close enough? Close enough? Would you say a grain of wheat is close enough to a loaf of bread, or a cow is close enough to a pound of butter?"

"Your analogies are flawed."

"How so?"

"Simply put, his apology was implied."

"Implied?"

"Decidedly so."

"Then here's my bob." The March Hare held out an empty paw.

"I see no bob."

"It is implied."

"You cannot imply a bob; it just isn't done."

"I can, and I will."

"The grocer would not accept it, and neither will I."

"Why don't I punch you in the nose, and give you an implied apology?"

"Try it, and see what happens."

"Don't tempt me."

They might have come to blows if a messenger hadn't arrived, and cleared his throat. He was a fish-like fellow wearing a powdered wig, and royal livery.

"No room, no room," shouted the Hatter and the March Hare, forgetting their dispute.

"I have not come for tea," said the messenger, setting an envelope on the table. "I am merely delivering a summons."

"A summons?" said the Hatter, eyeing the envelope nervously.

"A summons?" said the March Hare, perking up his ears.

"A what?" asked the Dormouse, raising his head.

"For whom?" asked the Hatter.

"The Hatter," replied the messenger.

"From whom?"

"The Queen."

Upon hearing this, the hatter began to shake violently. "Oh dear!" he said, fetching a handkerchief from his coat pocket, and wiping the sweat off of his brow. "What is it for?"

"Read it and see," replied the Messenger.

With trembling hands, the Hatter opened the envelope, and removed the document.

"What does it say?" asked the March Hare.

"What does it say?" asked the Dormouse.

"I must give evidence at the trial of the Knave of Hearts," the Hatter replied.

"What do you know about the Knave of Hearts?" asked the March Hare.

"I know nothing whatsoever."

"He knows nothing whatsoever," said the Dormouse.

"I've long suspected," muttered the March Hare.

"I say, my good man," said the Hatter to the messenger. "Are you sure this is correct?"

"Absolutely correct," replied the messenger.

"What did this Knave of Hearts do?"

"He stole some tarts."

"Is that all?"

"The Queen's tarts."

"Oh dear! He must have lost his head."

"Not yet, but he will."

The End