_I m_ not a mile high, said Alice.
You are, said the King.
Nearly two miles high, added the Queen.
Well, I shan t go, at any rate, said Alice: besides, that s not a
regular rule: you invented it just now.
It s the oldest rule in the book, said the King.
Then it ought to be Number One, said Alice.
The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. Consider your
verdict, he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice.
There s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty, said the
White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; this paper has just been
picked up.
What s in it? said the Queen.
I haven t opened it yet, said the White Rabbit, but it seems to be a
letter, written by the prisoner to to somebody.
It must have been that, said the King, unless it was written to
nobody, which isn t usual, you know.
Who is it directed to? said one of the jurymen.
It isn t directed at all, said the White Rabbit; in fact, there s
nothing written on the _outside_. He unfolded the paper as he spoke,
and added It isn t a letter, after all: it s a set of verses.
Are they in the prisoner s handwriting? asked another of the jurymen.
No, they re not, said the White Rabbit, and that s the queerest
thing about it. (The jury all looked puzzled.)
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