"Yes," said Alice, with the kindest intentions, "Ben can do that. It'll be just as nice as speaking, Ben, because then the people can see you all the time. Besides, you haven't any piece to speak."
"Yis I hev," said Ben, opening his round blue eyes with an injured look; "I kin speak the one I speaked at the exsmishun."
Now the fact was, on the memorable occasion alluded to, Master Ben had found himself, to his astonishment, all abroad the moment he appeared before the curtain, and after having repeated the last two lines of the second verse, followed by the first two of the fourth, he had ignominiously retreated. But, he had been applauded, and applause is sweet to youth, so he had no objection to winning new laurels on the present occasion.
Alice thought it unwise to allude to his former defeat, so she only said, "O, you've forgotten it, Ben."
"No, I haven't," said Ben, still in an aggrieved tone. "You see—
"Twintle, twintle, little star,
How I wonder—how I wonder—how I wonder—"
"How I wonder what comes next," suggested Fred.
"No, that ain't it," said Ben. "How I wonder—how I wonder—"
"How I wander from the subject," suggested George. "I'll tell you what, Ben, you'll think it is splendid to hold up the curtain. You may wear my soldier cap if you want to, and I guess mother 'll let you have the peacock's feather over the looking-glass to put in it."
"Yes," said Alice, "and you may have my red scarf for a sash."