Knarf—Well, of course it is too bad that you haven’t any grown-ups to make mind.
Alice—I don’t want to make anyone mind. I want my own dear mother and father and grandma, too. I’d be glad to mind them, if I could only get a chance.
Ecila—If you could only find the Fairy who brought you here—
Frank—Well, we can’t. We’ve hunted and hunted, but we never seem to get anywhere when we start out.
Knarf—Of course not. All roads lead to nowhere in Topsy Turvy Land. Did yours lead somewhere?
Frank—Of course they did. And our teachers knew something. They made you study and learn your lessons, instead of calling you a hopeless little blockhead because you didn’t ask them a lot of foolish questions about nothing in particular.
Alice—And that music teacher is just the limit. Manners, indeed! The things he calls manners are the most impolite things imaginable. And dancing! To walk slowly here and there, and sit down every so many steps isn’t dancing!
Knarf—What is it, then?
Frank—Tomfoolery. And what he calls whistling is nothing more than buzzing! Music teacher! He doesn’t teach a bit of music!
Knarf—Why, manners and dancing and whistling are music.