Alice ran to the side of the ditch to look for him. She was rather
startled by the fall, as for some time he had kept on very well, and
she was afraid that he really _was_ hurt this time. However, though she
could see nothing but the soles of his feet, she was much relieved to
hear that he was talking on in his usual tone. All kinds of fastness,
he repeated: but it was careless of him to put another man s helmet
on with the man in it, too.
How _can_ you go on talking so quietly, head downwards? Alice asked,
as she dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on the bank.
The Knight looked surprised at the question. What does it matter where
my body happens to be? he said. My mind goes on working all the same.
In fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new
things.
Now the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did, he went on after
a pause, was inventing a new pudding during the meat-course.
In time to have it cooked for the next course? said Alice.
Well, not the _next_ course, the Knight said in a slow thoughtful
tone: no, certainly not the next _course_.
Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldn t have two
pudding-courses in one dinner?
Well, not the _next_ day, the Knight repeated as before: not the
next _day_. In fact, he went on, holding his head down, and his voice
getting lower and lower, I don t believe that pudding ever _was_
cooked! In fact, I don t believe that pudding ever _will_ be cooked!
And yet it was a very clever pudding to invent.
What did you mean it to be made of? Alice asked, hoping to cheer him
up, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.
It began with blotting paper, the Knight answered with a groan.
That wouldn t be very nice, I m afraid
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