`Not like cats!' cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate
voice. `Would YOU like cats if you were me?'
`Well, perhaps not,' said Alice in a soothing tone: `don't be
angry about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah:
I think you'd take a fancy to cats if you could only see her.
She is such a dear quiet thing,' Alice went on, half to herself,
as she swam lazily about in the pool, `and she sits purring so
nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face--and
she is such a nice soft thing to nurse--and she's such a capital
one for catching mice--oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Alice again,
for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt
certain it must be really offended. `We won't talk about her any
more if you'd rather not.'
|