‘Will you not pick some,’ said Ellen, ‘and put them in your baskets, and then you can eat what you like?’
Then they went higher still, to the furthest end of the orchard; and there they had a fine view of the sea and all the hills about them, and of the town; and when they had rested up there a little time, and eaten some of their nice apples, they returned with Ellen to the farm-house.
Here they found that a great quantity of apples had been brought, and had been put into a large trough at the back of the house, and a horse was harnessed to a long beam of wood, and the horse went round and round. Ellen showed the two children how the apples slipped down into a large hole, and were crushed inside in a sort of mill; and she let them see how the apples came out of this mill down below; but they did not look like apples, but were brown and soft, and did not look at all nice.
‘Why do they make those nice apples into that nasty mess?’ said Alice.
‘To make cider,’ said Ellen. ‘The apples are crushed to pieces in the mill, and in a short time that nasty muddy stuff will be nice clear cider.’
‘Cider!’ cried Alice; ‘how can such horrid stuff ever be cider?’
‘We let them stand a short time till the juice separates from the thick part, and it ferments, and the juice becomes cider.’
The cider press did not interest the children long; they liked most to go about the farmyard, and help to feed the chickens, and go to the pond and look at the snow-white ducks swimming about in the pond; and whilst they were looking at the ducks putting their heads down deep in the water, Beatrice heard a great grunting behind her, and turned round and called out, ‘Alice! look, what a big pig!’
Alice turned, and saw a very large black pig, with a great many little pigs running after it, all grunting together.
‘How many little pigs are there?’ said Alice, counting them as she spoke. ‘There are ten little pigs; and is that their mother, Ellen?’