Nonsense

The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter,
and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a solemn tone, “For the
Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet.” The
Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, “From the Queen. An
invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.” Then they both bowed low
and their curls got entangled together.

When Alice next peeped out, the Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was
sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky.
Alice went timidly up to the door and knocked.

“There’s no sort of use in knocking,” said the Footman, “and that for
two reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are;
secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could
possibly hear you.” And certainly there _was_ a most extraordinary noise
going on within–a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then
a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces.

“How am I to get in?” asked Alice.

“_Are_ you to get in at all?” said the Footman. “That’s the first
question, you know.”

Alice opened the door and went in. The door led right into a large
kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other; the Duchess
was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the
cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large caldron which seemed to
be full of soup.