The White Rabbit was dancing with the White Queen, looking very pleased indeed and taking a lot of fancy steps. The Gryphon and the White Knight were doing a kind of breakdown and falling down flat every few seconds, while the Frog Footman looked on and shook his head dubiously. The old lady Sheep, with her knitting in her hands, was twirling about by herself in the most remarkable way, while the Lion and the Unicorn hopped about with the Red Queen, who seemed to be in a very bad temper, for she scowled first at one and then at the other ferociously, and each of the big creatures fairly trembled under her glances.
But as soon as they saw Alice they dropped the Queen and rushed up.
“Why, here’s the Monster,” they roared, smiling in the largest kind of manner. “And other Monsters! Come on, the dance is beginning.”
Rose found herself whirling round and round in the Lion’s grasp, while the Unicorn chose Ruth.
“You see,” they both remarked, confidentially, “we knew Alice, so of course we had to choose you.”
As for Alice, she and the Red Queen came flying behind, barely touching the ice-like floor as they twirled. And after them came all the strange and unreal creatures of the Looking-Glass and Wonderland. Round and round they danced, like leaves in autumn.
Suddenly Rose and Ruth found themselves at the head of the whole crowd, who were ranged behind them in double column, Alice and the White Rabbit being next them. As the music struck up louder than ever—and somehow they hadn’t noticed music till now, when it seemed to come from everywhere at once—Alice leaned toward them.
“Teach them the Indian dance,” she whispered, “only hurry, HURRY!”
For a second Rose and Ruth didn’t grasp her meaning. Then they remembered that they knew a war dance taught them by a young Sioux who had herded for their father last summer. Rose let out a wild Indian war-whoop, echoed by Ruth, and crouching down and doubling their fists, the two girls commenced to step and circle, at first slowly, then faster and faster. Behind them stretched the motley gathering. Some one was throwing Bill the Lizard high into the air. The Red and the White Queen both had feathers stuck into their crowns, like an Indian head-dress. Wild yells resounded here and there from the stamping throng....
“Good-bye, dears, wasn’t it lovely?” Alice said, her arms round their necks, as they stood, bewildered, on the rug before the fire, looking so neat and English in its tidy grate....