"You've no right to grow here," said the Dor-mouse.
"Don't talk such non-sense," said Al-ice. "You know you grow too."
"Yes, but not so fast as to squeeze the breath out of those who sit by me." He got up and crossed to the oth-er side of the court.
All this time the Queen had not left off star-ing at the Hat-ter, and just as the Dor-mouse crossed the court, she said to one of the men, "Bring me the list of those who sang in the last con-cert," on which the poor Hat-ter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off.
"Tell what you know of this case," the King called out a-gain, "or I'll have your head off, if you do shake."
"I'm a poor man, your ma-jes-ty," the Hat-ter be-gan in a weak voice, "and I hadn't but just be-gun my tea, not more than a week or so, and what with the bread and but-ter so thin—and the twink-ling of the tea"
"The twink-ling of what?" asked the King.
"It be-gan with the tea," the Hat-ter said.
"Of course twink-ling be-gins with a T!" said the King. "Do you take me for a dunce? Go on!"
"I'm a poor man," the Hat-ter went on, "and most things twink-led af-ter that—but the March Hare said"
