'
`How CAN you go on talking so quietly, head downwards?' Alice
asked, as she dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on
the bank.
The Knight looked surprised at the question. `What does it matter
where my body happens to be?' he said. `My mind goes on working all
the same. In fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep
inventing new things.'
`Now the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did,' he went on
after a pause, `was inventing a new pudding during the meat- course.'
`In time to have it cooked for the next course?' said Alice. `Well,
not the NEXT course,' the Knight said in a slow thoughtful tone: `no,
certainly not the next COURSE.'
`Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldn't
have two pudding-courses in one dinner?'
`Well, not the NEXT day,' the Knight repeated as before: `not the
next DAY. In fact,' he went on, holding his head down, and his voice
getting lower and lower, `I don't believe that pudding ever WAS
cooked! In fact, I don't believe that 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.
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