A Mad Tea-Party

Beneath a tree the March Hare, the Hatter and a sleepy Dormouse were having tea.

“No room! No room!” they cried, though the table was very large indeed.

“Why is a raven like a writing-desk?” asked the Hatter. Nobody knew the answer.

The Hatter explained that he had quarrelled with Time, so now it was always six o'clock — always tea-time, and never a moment to wash the cups between.

When the Dormouse began a story about three sisters who lived in a treacle-well, Alice walked away.