Alice seemed to recognise the quotation, but she did not notice that anything particular was being done. “At the rate you’re going, it will be years before you get settled,” she remarked.
“Perhaps it will,” said the Duchess resignedly. “I’m paid by the year, you know. Festina lente, say I.”
“But surely you can keep some sort of order in your Establishment?” said Alice. “Why don’t you exert your authority?”
“My dear, it takes me all the exertion I can spare to have any authority. I give orders, and it’s my endeavour not to see that they’re disobeyed. I’m sure I’ve given this child my Opinion—but there, you might as well opine to a limpet. As to the cook——”
“I ALWAYS SAID IT WOULD,” SAID THE CAT.
Here the cook sent the pepper-pot straight at the Duchess, who broke off in a violent fit of sneezing. In the midst of the commotion the baby suddenly disappeared, and as the cook had taken up a new caster labelled “cayenne” Alice thought she might as well go and see where it had gone to. As she slipped out of the kitchen she heard the Duchess gasping between her sneezes, “Must ... be done ... quietly ... and ... gradually.”
* * * * * *
“What happened to the baby?” asked the Cheshire Cat, appearing suddenly a few minutes later.
“It went out—to roam, I think,” said Alice.