"Who are you talk-ing to?" said the King, as he came up to Al-ice and stared at the Cat's head as if it were a strange sight.
"It's a friend of mine—a Che-shire Cat," said Al-ice.
"I don't like the look of it at all," said the King; "it may kiss my hand if it likes."
"I don't want to," said the Cat.
"Don't be rude; and don't look at me like that," said the King.
"A cat may look at a king," said Al-ice. "I've read that in some book, but I can't tell where."
"Well, it must get off from here," said the King in a firm voice, and he called to the Queen, who was near, "My dear! I wish you would see that this cat leaves here at once!"
The Queen had but one cure for all ills, great or small. "Off with his head," she said, and did not so much as look round.
"I'll fetch the sol-dier my-self," said the King, and rushed off.
Al-ice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game went on. She heard the Queen's voice in the dis-tance, as she screamed with rage, "Off with his head! He has missed his turn!" Al-ice did not like the look of things at all, for the game was so mixed she could not tell when her turn came; so she went off to find her hedge-hog.