t
hasn't!'

She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again.
'Then it really HAS happened, after all! And now, who am I? I WILL
remember, if I can! I'm determined to do it!' But being determined
didn't help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling,
was, 'L, I KNOW it begins with L!'

Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large
gentle eyes, but didn't seem at all frightened. 'Here then! Here then!'
Alice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only
started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.

'What do you call yourself?' the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet
voice it had!

'I wish I knew!' thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly,
'Nothing, just now.'

'Think again,' it said: 'that won't do.'

Alice thought, but nothing came of it. 'Please, would you tell me
what YOU call yourself?' she said timidly. 'I think that might help a
little.'

'I'll tell you, if you'll move a little further on,' the Fawn said. 'I
can't remember here.'

So they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms clasped
lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into
another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air,
and shook itself free from Alice's arms. 'I'm a Fawn!' it cried out in a
voice of delight, 'and, dear me! you're a human child!' A sudden look of
alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had
darted away at full speed.

Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at
having lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. 'However, I
know my name now.' she said, 'that's SOME comfort. Alice--Alice--I won't
forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow,
I wonder?'

It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one
road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it.
'I'll settle it,' Alice said to herself, 'when the road divides and they
point different ways.'

But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way,
but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts
pointing the same way, one marked 'TO TWEEDLEDUM'S HOUSE' and the other
'TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.'

'I do believe,' said Alice at last, 'that they live in the same house! I
wonder I never thought of that before--But I can't stay there long. I'll
just call