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The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. `Four times round is enough for one dance,' Tweedledum panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same moment. Then they let go of Alice's hands, and stood looking at her for a minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. `It would never do to say "How d'ye do?" now,' she said to herself: `we seem to have got beyond that, somehow!' `I hope you're not much tired?' she said at last. `Nohow. And thank you very much for asking,' said Tweedledum. `So much obliged!' added Tweedledee. `You like poetry?' `Ye-es, pretty well--some poetry,' Alice said doubtfully. `Would you tell me which road leads out of the wood?' `What shall I repeat to her?' said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice's question. `"The Walrus and the Carpenter" is the longest,' Tweedledum replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug. Tweedledee began instantly:
Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. `If it's very long,' she said, as politely as she could, `would you please tell me first which road--' Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again: `The sun was shining on the sea, |
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