I'm Late! I'm Late, for a Very Important Date!"

It's time for a Mad Tea Party!

"Oh, my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!"







"No wonder you're late. Why, this watch is exactly two days slow.




What better place for a mad tea party than a garden?





"Oh, but that's nonsense. Flowers can't talk."




"Of course we can talk, my dear."


"If there's anyone worth talking to..."




"...or about!"



"You can learn a lot of things from flowers."





So, let's go down into the cool shade of the garden.....





"Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die"









Wait, who's that creeping up?




Said Alice, "I don't even know what a Mock Turtle is."

"It's the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from," said the Queen.

"I never saw one, or heard of one," said Alice.Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?"

"We called him Tortoise because he taught us," said the Mock Turtle angrily: "really you are very dull!'





"In that direction,lives a Hatter:"





"And in that direction, lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad."




Be careful; the queen in this garden is quite mad too...
"Who's been painting my roses red? WHO'S BEEN PAINTING MY ROSES RED? Who dares to taint with vulgar paint the royal flower bed? For painting my roses red Someone will lose his head.

"


"Do you care for tea?"




"Why, yes. I'm very fond of tea. "




"If you don't care for tea, you could at least make polite conversation!"





"When I get home I shall write a book about this place... "






So they sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed themselves in Wonderland, though each knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality--the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds--the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep- bells, and the Queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy--and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (they knew) to the confused clamour of the busy world in the distance...

Lastly, they pictured themselves how these same sisters would, in the after-time, be themselves grown women; and how they would keep, through all their riper years, the simple and loving hearts of thier childhood: and how they would gather about them other little children, and make THEIR eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how they would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering their own child-lives, and the happy summer days.

"Why don't you start at the begining? Yes and when you reach the end... Stop."