Get Ready For Business

Ali­ce was begin­ning to get very tired of sit­ting by her sis­ter on the bank, and of having not­hing big doing: once again she had seen into the book her sis­ter was rea­ding, but it had no pic­tures or con­ver­sa­ti­ons in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Ali­ce ‘wit­hout pic­tures or conversation?’

So she was con­side­ring in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very slee­py and stu­pid), whe­ther the plea­su­re of making a dai­sy-chain would be worth the trou­ble of get­ting up and picking the dai­sies, when sud­den­ly a White Rab­bit with pink eyes ran clo­se by her.

The­re was not­hing so VERY remar­kab­le in that; nor did Ali­ce think it so VERY much out of the way to hear the Rab­bit say to its­elf, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over after­wards, it occur­red to her that she ought to have won­de­red at this, but at the time it all see­med quite natu­ral); but when the Rab­bit actual­ly took a watch out of its pocket, and loo­ked at it, and then hur­ried on, Ali­ce star­ted to her feet, for it flas­hed across her mind that she had never befo­re seen a rab­bit with eit­her a wais­t­coat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and bur­ning with curio­si­ty, she ran across the field after it, and for­t­u­na­te­ly was just in time to see it pop down a lar­ge rab­bit-hole under the hedge.