Is she like me? Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her
mind, There s another little girl in the garden, somewhere!
Well, she has the same awkward shape as you, the Rose said, but
she s redder and her petals are shorter, I think.
Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia, the Tiger-lily
interrupted: not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.
But that s not _your_ fault, the Rose added kindly: you re beginning
to fade, you know and then one can t help one s petals getting a little
untidy.
Alice didn t like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she
asked Does she ever come out here?
I daresay you ll see her soon, said the Rose. She s one of the
thorny kind.
Where does she wear the thorns? Alice asked with some curiosity.
Why all round her head, of course, the Rose replied. I was wondering
_you_ hadn t got some too. I thought it was the regular rule.
She s coming! cried the Larkspur. I hear her footstep, thump, thump,
thump, along the gravel-walk!
Alice looked round eagerly, and found that it was the Red Queen. She s
grown a good deal! was her first remark. She had indeed: when Alice
first found her in the ashes, she had been only three inches high and
here she was, half a head taller than Alice herself!
It s the fresh air that does it, said the Rose: wonderfully fine air
it is, out here.
I think I ll go and meet her, said Alice, for, though the flowers
were interesting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have
a talk with a real Queen.
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