Frumenty and mince pie, the Gnat replied; and it makes its nest in a
Christmas box.
And then there s the Butterfly, Alice went on, after she had taken a
good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to
herself, I wonder if that s the reason insects are so fond of flying
into candles because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!
Crawling at your feet, said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in
some alarm), you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin
slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump
of sugar.
And what does _it_ live on?
Weak tea with cream in it.
A new difficulty came into Alice s head. Supposing it couldn t find
any? she suggested.
Then it would die, of course.
But that must happen very often, Alice remarked thoughtfully.
It always happens, said the Gnat.
After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat
amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last it
settled again and remarked, I suppose you don t want to lose your
name?
No, indeed, Alice said, a little anxiously.
And yet I don t know, the Gnat went on in a careless tone: only
think how convenient it would be if you could manage to go home without
it! For instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons,
she would call out come here , and there she would have to leave off,
because there wouldn t be any name for her to call, and of course you
wouldn t have to go, you know.
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