Stolen!
Hatter
I keep them to sell. I’ve none of my own. I’m a hatter.
[Puts on her spectacles and stares at Hatter, who fidgets uncomfortably.]
King
Give your evidence and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have you executed on the spot.
[The Hatter continues to shift nervously from one foot to the other, looks uneasily at the Queen, trembles so that he shakes off both of his shoes, and in his confusion bites a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread and butter.]
Hatter
I’m a poor man, your Majesty, and I hadn’t but just begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the bread and butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea—