`There's one other flower in the garden that can move about like
you,' said the Rose. `I wonder how you do it -- ' (`You're always
wondering,' said the Tiger-lily), `but she's more bushy than you
are.'
`Is she like me?' Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her
mind, `There's another little girl in the garden, somewhere!'
`Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,' the Rose said, `but
she's redder -- and her petals are shorter, I think.'
`Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,' the
Tiger-lily interrupted: `not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.'
`But that's not YOUR fault,' the Rose added kindly: `you're
beginning to fade, you know -- and then one can't help one's petals
getting a little untidy.'
Alice didn't like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she
asked `Does she ever come out here?'
`I daresay you'll see her soon,' said the Rose. `She's one of the
thorny kind.'
`Where does she wear the thorns?' Alice asked with some curiosity.
`Why all round her head, of course,' the Rose replied. `I was
wondering YOU hadn't got some too. I thought it was the regular
rule.'
`She's coming!' cried the Larkspur.
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