“This is insane,” I whispered. “Utter madness.”
“Don't worry about that,” the hovering cat said. “We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad, he's mad.”
“How do you that I'm mad?” I huffed. “We've only just met.
“You must be, or you wouldn't have come here.”
“Oh, fantastic,” I said dryly. “And to answer your earlier question; just a name will suffice.”
“That's no fun,” the cat pouted. “How can I show off my prowess to my new queen if she doesn't allow me to give her my rank and affiliation?”
“Then why did you even ask me?”
“I was being polite.”
“Would you just tell her who you are already so that we can get on with it?” Warren grumbled.
“I am Nicholas of the Order of Cheshire, Knight of Wilds,” the cat bowed. “And I shall see you safely to tea, Queen Alice.”
“I am seeing her safely to–oh, never mind.” Warren started hopping away. “We're late enough as it is. I can't find my damn gloves either,” he kept muttering as he went.
“My uncle told me to trust Nicholas,” I said. “Is that you?”
“Yes, I knew your mother's brother well. I knew all of your family. If you will climb onto my shoulders, Your Majesty?” Nicholas said as he lowered himself before me. “I shall carry you to the rendezvous point faster than you can walk.”
“Thank you, Sir Nicholas.” I climbed onto his shoulders and took huge handfuls of fur.
“Call me Nick,” he said and shot through the air.
“Do not start the meeting without me!” Warren shouted after us.”
I clung to the flying cat as Tulgey Wood whizzed by, but soon, he was slowing down to circle a clearing. In the center of this clearing there was a little house, and in front of the house, there was a long table set haphazardly with all manner of porcelain plates, teacups, saucers, and eating implements. An enormous cake sat in the middle of the table, with smaller cakes surrounding it, and several teapots ranged down each end. Three individuals sat around the table: a man, a brown rabbit, and a mouse.
“A mouse drinking tea,” I whispered, thinking of my uncle's stories. “The stories really are true.”
“I'm sure they are,” Nick said. “whatever you're speaking of. There's usually a grain of truth in every word uttered. It's just that sometimes you have to search harder to find it. Once you do, however, you can make some lovely bread.”
“You cannot make bread from grains of truth,” I said.
“Of course you can.” Nick smoothed his whiskers sagely. “Truth bread is the tastiest, but it can be hard to swallow.”
“Then you should eat cake!” The man at the table declared. “Where's the cake?”
“It's right in front of you, Hatter.” Nick rolled his eyes and himself, taking me along for the ride. “I prefer bread and butter.”
“Is that she?” The man asked as he stood so violently that his chair crashed back onto the Persian carpet that had been laid over the grass.
Hatter; well, he did have a large hat on, so his name seemed appropriate. It was a garish green hat, with a paisley band about it and a flat brim. A card tucked into the band read: In this style 10/6. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Yes, this is Queen Alice,” Nick said as he floated down to the table.
“You're awfully small for a wild queen,” Hatter noted. “I seem to remember the Wilds as being much more magnificent in stature. Much more muchier. Have you lost your muchness?”
“She took some of Theodore's potion so that she could come through the gate,” Warren panted as he hopped into the clearing. Then he shifted into his human form, regaining his lost clothing, and smoothed out the wrinkled fabric. “I will rectify her size immediately.”
Warren strode over to me as I slid off of Nick's neck. He took a petite four out of his pocket and placed it on the table beside me. I stared at it in consternation.
“I don't think–” I started to say, but was cut off by Hatter.
