“That road,” the Cat says, waggin its richt paw aboot, “bides a Hatter: an that
road,” bides a Mairch Hare. Veesit on aither ane ye want: they’re baith
mad.”
“But I dinna want tae gang amang mad fowk,” Ailice remarked.
“Och, ye canna help that,” says the Cat: “we’re aa mad here. I’m mad. You’re
mad.”
“Hou div ye ken I’m mad?” says Ailice.
“Ye maun be,” says the Cat, “or ye wadna hae come here.”
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