“A FAIR LITTLE GIRL SAT UNDER A TREE”
“I’ve been trying to get into three verses all the morning,” said Lucy, “and, do you know, I believe I’ve done it, too.”
“Three verses! Absurd!” cried the Walrus. “I have eighteen very useful verses. Of course I might” and he looked round cautiously and lowered his voice, “I might leave out the Carpenter. He’s rather a bore is the Carpenter, and he is too fond of oysters.”
“The Walrus, the Carpenter, the Lobster!” said Lucy. “Oh, am I? Oh, I’m not Oh, don’t say”
“What is the matter?” asked the Walrus.
“Am I in Rhyme Land?” asked Lucy.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said the Walrus, “but you come along. I want to talk to you about cutting out the Carpenter.”
Lucy followed him sadly.
“I must be in Nonsense Land,” she said. “Dear, dear! What shall I do? If only I hadn’t tried to get into three verses. It’s all Betty Barber’s fault. But I’ll get out somehow or other. I must and will, and then I’ll go to the tree, find the book, and tear Oh, what am I saying?”
“What are you mumbling and! grumbling about?” said the Walrus. “Come along. You see the Carpenter is only on in six verses. I suppose—but you are not attending.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, “but the fact of the matter is, I must go back. I’ve come too far.”
“Rubbish!” said the Walrus. “Here, some of you, come and help.”
“What it the matter?” asked the Lobster.
“Hullo, here’s a new arrival,” cried an Owl, hastening to meet them.
“Let me go,” said Lucy. “I must go.”
“Not until we’ve seen something of you,” cried the Clanglewangle, who was a very wonderful person.
“Are you in rhyme, my dear?” asked the Pussy Cat. “I’m sure I hope so.”
