at last in a plaintive tone, after
she had spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright thing,
that looked sometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box, and was
always in the shelf next above the one she was looking at. 'And this one
is the most provoking of all--but I'll tell you what--' she added, as a
sudden thought struck her, 'I'll follow it up to the very top shelf of
all. It'll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!'

But even this plan failed: the 'thing' went through the ceiling as
quietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.

'Are you a child or a teetotum?' the Sheep said, as she took up another
pair of needles. 'You'll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round
like that.' She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice
couldn't help looking at her in great astonishment.

'How CAN she knit with so many?' the puzzled child thought to herself.
'She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!'

'Can you row?' the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles
as she spoke.

'Yes, a little--but not on land--and not with needles--' Alice was
beginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her
hands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between
banks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.

'Feather!' cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.

This didn't sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said
nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the
water, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and
would hardly come out again.

'Feather! Feather!' the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. 'You'll
be catching a crab directly.'

'A dear little crab!' thought Alice. 'I should like that.'

'Didn't you hear me say "Feather"?' the Sheep cried angrily, taking up
quite a bunch of needles.

'Indeed I did,' said Alice: 'you've said it very often--and very loud.
Please, where ARE the crabs?'

'In the water, of course!' said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles
into her hair, as her hands were full. 'Feather, I say!'

'WHY do you say "feather" so often?' Alice asked at last, rather vexed.
'I'm not a bird!'

'You are,' said the Sheep: 'you're a little goose.'

This offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a
minute or two, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of
weeds (which made the oars stick fast i