“It’s a ‘who,’ Majesty!” cried the White Rabbit, popping out of the bushes behind Alice. “This is . . . um . . .”
“Um?” echoed the Red Queen.
“From Umbradge,” Alice added hastily.
The Queen looked skeptical. “What happened to your clothes?”
“I outgrew them,” said Alice, quite honestly. Sensing this would not be enough of an answer, she began to improvise. “I’ve been growing an awful lot lately. I tower over everyone in Umbradge. . . . They laugh at me. So I’ve come to you, hoping you might understand what it’s like.”
There was a long, tense pause as the Red Queen studied her with narrowed eyes. At last she said, “My dear girl. Anyone with a head that large is welcome in my court.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” chorused the courtiers, doubling over with peals of exaggerated laughter.
“SOMEONE FIND HER SOME CLOTHES!” bellowed the queen. “USE THE CURTAINS IF YOU MUST, BUT CLOTHE THIS ENORMOUS GIRL!” A flurry of activity ensued as pages and servants went dashing off in all directions. The Queen gave Alice a conspiratorial look. “You’ll be my new favorite.”
The courtiers weren’t laughing anymore. They huffed jealously and glared at Alice in a threatening, competitive way. Lady Long Ears looked especially displeased.
But Alice didn’t have even a moment to think about that, as she was whirled off to the castle and draped with enough fabric to cover Buckingham Palace. Long red velvet curtains tied with a gold-colored rope restored her decency, but the whole ensemble looked rather strange. She tugged a loose edge over her shoulder as she hurried down a long hall after the Red Queen.
All around her, animals were hard at work doing things they were never intended to do. She could see that hedgehogs and flamingos were not the only ones suffering in the Red Queen’s court. Overhead, exhausted birds flapped their wings painfully, trying to stay aloft to hold up the Queen’s lamps in their beaks. At the edges of the hall, the tables and chairs had no legs; instead, they were held up by monkeys, their furry arms trembling with exertion. The footfrogs that stood at attention as the Queen swept past all looked petrified.
They reached the Queen’s elaborate throne room, which was furnished in much the same way. An ornate throne stood at the far end on legs made of terrified spider monkeys. Without so much as a glance at the monkeys, the Queen plopped down on the throne, and they all strained under her weight. The Red Queen kicked off her shoes and waved one small hand in the air.
“I need a pig here!” she called.
Immediately, a small pig hurried over from an alcove and lay down belly-up in front of her. The Queen put her bare feet on its belly and sighed contentedly.
“I love a warm pig belly for my aching feet,” she said. She turned her attention to Alice. “Would you like one, Um?”
“No, thank you,” Alice replied.
“Sit! Sit!” the Red Queen told Alice.
Alice gingerly sat on the largest chair she could find, doing her best to keep her newly enormous weight off the poor monkeys underneath her. She could see their long drooping tails spiraling out on either side of the chair.
The Red Queen flapped her hands at the three courtiers. “Go away,” she ordered. They left, casting dark jealous looks at Alice. “Where are my Fatboys?” the queen went on. “You must meet them! Fatboys!”
To Alice’s horror, the pair that were dragged into the room were Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Their cheerful round faces were glum now, and garishly painted. White powder had been heavily applied and red hearts had been painted on their cheeks. Red-heart lips added to the monstrous look, and a long gold belt bound them together around their waists. Their eyes were lowered to the marble floor, their whole posture downtrodden and hopeless.
“There they are!” squealed the Red Queen, clapping her hands. “Aren’t they adorable? And they have the oddest way of speaking. Speak, boys! Amuse us! Speak!”
Tweedledee lifted his eyes and saw Alice for the first time. He nudged his brother with his elbow. “Is that being . . . ?” he started.
Alice lifted one finger to her lips and shook her head slightly.
“No, it isn’t,” said Tweedledum, a spark of hope flaring in his eyes. “Not a bit. No.”
Tweedledee blinked, puzzled. He had missed Alice’s gesture. “Contrariwise, I believe it is so—”
“No!” Tweedledun cut him off. “It ain’t so. No-how!” He stomped on his brother’s foot to silence him. Disgruntled, Tweedledee pinched him, and Tweedledum pinched back.
The Queen laughed raucously. “I love my Fat-boys. Now, get out.”
Casting last, pleading glances at Alice, the Tweedles rolled out of the room. As they exited, they passed Stayne, the Knave of Hearts, coming in. The Red Queen clasped her hands and fluttered her eyelashes at him seductively. Stayne repressed a shudder, but when the Queen extended her hand to him, he kissed it.
A pair of Red Knights left the room. Stayne noticed Alice and his eyebrows went up. “And who is this lovely creature?” He took Alice’s hand, looking at her intensely. Alice tried to look blandly polite and uninteresting, as her mother had often tried to teach her for meeting crowds of people at horrible garden parties. But her heart beat a little faster with fear at being so close to the man who’d been hunting her. She did not like the way he studied her.
“Um, my new favorite,” said the Queen, answering Stayne’s question.
“Does she have a name?” asked the Knave.
“Um,” said the Queen.
The Knave of Hearts turned to Alice with an oily smile. “I believe your name has slipped the Queen’s mind.”
The Red Queen leaned forward and smacked him hard. “Her name is Um. Idiot.
“Any luck with the prisoner?” the Queen asked.
Alice’s ears perked up. Prisoner?
“He’s stubborn,” grumbled the Knave. His birthmark flared brightly across his face.
“You’re too soft,” snapped the Queen. “Bring him!”
He did not talk back to the Queen, but Alice could see a dangerous anger smoldering in his eyes.
A clatter at the door announced the arrival of the guards with their prisoner. Alice had to stifle a gasp as they dragged the Hatter into the room, chained by his hands and feet. Bruises covered his face and blood soaked through his clothes. He’d clearly been roughed up. His eyes had an empty, faraway stare. The Queen seized a hunk of his hair and lifted his head to meet her eyes, but he barely seemed to see her.
“We know Alice has returned to Underland,” snarled the Queen. “Do you know where she is?”
The Hatter didn’t respond. Scowling, the Queen clapped her hands in front of his face, and he jerked back to the moment. His eyes cleared and focused a bit, but he still didn’t see Alice.
“I’ve been considering things that begin with the letter M: moron, mutiny, murder, malice . . .” he said.
“We’re looking for an A word now,” the Queen responded. “Where is Alice?”
The Hatter furrowed his brow as if he were thinking hard. After a moment, a look of inspiration crossed his face, then paused and retreated. He considered again for a long while and finally shrugged.
“Who? That wee little boy? I wouldn’t know.”
The Red Queen scowled even more. “What if I take off your head, will you know then?”
The Hatter snickered.
“Stop that!” the Queen snapped.
Suddenly the Hatter’s gaze found Alice. Surprised at her new size, he gave her a wry smile, then turned back to the Queen, smarmy and unctuous.
“What a regrettably large head you have,” he said smoothly. “I should very much like to hat it.”
“Hat it?” echoed the Queen.
“Yes. I used to hat the White Queen, you know,” he said. “But there wasn’t very much for me to work with, poor dear. Her head is so small.”
“It’s tiny! A pimple of a head!” The Red Queen snorted.
“But this!” the Hatter went on, acting rapturous. “What I could do with this monument . . . this orb. Nay, this magnificently heroic globe!”
“What could you do?” asked the Queen, intrigued despite herself.
The Hatter lifted his bound hands in a helpless gesture.
“Untie him, Stayne!” the Queen ordered. “How can he work if his hands are bound?”
The Knave rolled his eyes, but he unbound the Hatter’s hands without arguing. The Hatter began to circle the Queen, his hands outlining elegant images in the air.
“Well, then, shall it be a bonnet or a boater,” he mused, “or something for the boudoir?” His voice rose in pitch, becoming more manic as he went on. “Cloche, dunce hat, death cap, coif, snood, barboosh, pugree, yarmulke, cockle-hat, porkpie, tam-o’-shanter, billycock, bicorn, tricorn, bandeau, bongrace, fan-tail, nightcap, garibaldi, fez . . .”
Alice could see he would lose the Queen if he wasn’t pulled back from the edge of madness again.
She pretended to sneeze into her hand so she could let out a muffled: “HATTER!”
He jerked back, present again. “Fez . . . Fez.”
The Red Queen looked down her nose at Alice and Stayne. “Leave us.”
Alice was only too glad to get up and leave that room, although she worried about leaving the Hatter alone with the Queen. On the other hand, at least it took the Knave away from him; he was obviously more suspicious of the Hatter than the Red Queen was.