pudding ever will be cooked! And yet it was a very clever pudding to invent."
"What did you mean it to be made of?" Alice asked, hoping to cheer him up, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.
"It began with blotting-paper," the Knight answered with a groan.
"That wouldn't be very nice, I'm afraid"
"Not very nice alone," he interrupted, quite eagerly: "but you've no idea what a difference it makes, mixing it with other thingssuch as gunpowder and sealing-wax. And here I must leave you." They had just come to the end of the wood.
Alice could only look puzzled: she was thinking of the pudding.
"You are sad," the Knight said in an anxious tone: "let me sing you a song to comfort you."
"Is it very long?" Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.
"It's long," said the Knight, "but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing
