Alice awoke suddenly, shivering, the air quite chilly on her naked flesh, which was rather strange, or so she thought, seeing as she’d been immersed in hot water, or so she had thought.

“I must have been dreaming again,” she murmured as she shook her head. “Or perhaps this is the dream…”

Other images seeped into her mind, however, making her re-consider whether it had been a dream or a nightmare. She was having a bath. It was quite pleasant, only she’d been shackled in the tub so she couldn’t escape. There was a doctor. Of that she was sure. Doctor Rose. And she’d been ever so cruel, draining the tub until it was filled only with Alice, and nothing else.

“Oh, Now I remember!” she exclaimed, panicking as she realized that, while she was no longer in the porcelain tub, she was still shackled and helpless. Heavy brass not only held her wrists and ankles, but her waist and neck. Attached to each was a chain so heavy that she could hardly move and they were attached to a steel ring in the center of a small brick windowless cell.

“It seems I have been imprisoned!”

For indeed, it did seem so. The only way in, or out, of the cell was an ominous looking door, in which there was only a thin slit. Just enough to peer out, or in, although, secured as she was, she was unable to do so.

She shivered again, closing her eyes as more memories teased at the corners of her mind. Doctor Rose had attached nasty looking clamps with teeth that bit into her flesh on her most intimate places and she had done nothing to prevent her.

‘It was the medication they gave me,’ Alice reminded herself. ‘I would never have let her otherwise. Would I?’

She was no longer sure of herself or anything. The clamps had been attached to wires which, in turn, were attached to a strange contraption that buzzed like a bee hive. At first she had been curious as to its purpose. And then the Doctor had thrown a switch on it and she felt the strange sensation in her trapped nipples and her pleasure button. It had felt good, at first, but then Doctor Rose had turned a dial and it felt like the sting of a wasp, or perhaps the kiss of a hot poker. Or lightning! She’d screamed at which Doctor Rose had made some notes before resetting the dial.

Alice began to remember everything with clarity. How Doctor Rose had continued to turn the dial a little higher each time, and leaving it on for longer, sending searing pain into her most sensitive and pleasurable bits, intent on torturing her. And then it happened. She almost climaxed. It didn’t dull the pain. The pleasure simply rode alongside it, matching it, each near-orgasm heightened by it. She still screamed each time, but it was screams of pleasure as well as pain. Even more disconcerting, eventually the pleasure became too painful to bear and yet, the pain became increasingly pleasurable, until she couldn’t tell which was which. Even worse, she remembered what she’d been told. The medication wouldn’t allow her to climax.

‘If I am not able to, I will surely go mad!’ she thought, gasping and moaning as the dial was reset to zero once more. ‘Or perhaps I will die, unable to take this torment any longer.’

And each time, Doctor Rose took notes, otherwise ignoring Alice’s screams, shushing her as she begged to be let to climax, promising anything and everything, crying out for mercy.

And now…

“I wonder where I am. Oh, if only someone would come along and tell me what has become of me. The asylum, perhaps? Or a prisoner of the Queen’s guard?  Or maybe I am lost in another dream? This is all rather confusing.”

“If wishes were apples I’d bake you a pie,” chuckled a familiar sounding voice directly above her.

“Oh, Cheshire! It is good to see you!” she sighed, looking up to see the cat, or at least its head, floating above her.

“It is good to be seen, Alice. It seems you have, once again, gotten yourself into quite a pickle.”

“It seems that way, although surely, I am not to blame. I don’t suppose you could enlighten me as to where I am?”

“The Queen’s dungeons. Not a place I would have advised you to visit, had you asked.  But then, you never asked, so here we are.”

“Well, you could have offered. For someone who prides themselves on giving advice, you’re not very good at it.”

The cat just grinned, which infuriated her immensely.

“I don’t suppose you’ll help me to escape.”

“There is no escape, Alice. I am afraid that the best advice I can give is to simply accept your fate. Perhaps the Queen will take a liking to you. I am told she does like pretty young women, and you are certainly both pretty and a young woman.”

“This is all terrible unfair,” Alice said sulkily, her chin on one fist, her lips forming a pout.

“Most things in life are. Give her majesty my regards when you meet her.”

And just like that, the cat was gone once more, leaving Alice alone with her worries until, eventually, she closed her eyes and fell into restless slumbers in which giant butterflies were chasing her as she sailed down a river in a rowboat towards a dark tunnel full of jagged rocks. And then, she found herself in her father’s study, standing beside his inkwell, holding his quill like a spear, for in her dream she was very small. As she stood there, she could hear footsteps in the distance. Very heavy footsteps. Steeling herself, she put on her best defiant glower, imagining herself a great warrior of legend – a Valkyrie or an Amazon – and raised her make-shift spear as the door swung open…

She awoke with a startled gasp as she was poked in the ribs by a steel booted foot.

“Wake up, girl.”

Towering above her was a most handsome man, dressed in golden armor, his hair the color of the sun. One eyebrow was cocked quizzically as he prodded her again with his toe, his green eyes glittering as he spoke once more.

“On your feet. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

Alice struggled to her feet, quite a feat when one is weighed down by heavy shackles and chains.

“Curtsey.”

Sighing inwardly, Alice performed a clumsy curtsey, well aware of his sharp gaze taking her in, blushing a soft shade of pink as he took special interest in her breasts and the area between her thighs.

“Hard to tell if she’s pretty or not, filthy as she is. I suppose I should have her cleaned up.”

This was said to the guard just outside the door. He was holding a large ring of keys in one hand and a cruel looking baton in the other.

“I’ll have her hosed and scrubbed down, if it pleases you, m’lord.”

“Yes, do that. And find something for her to wear. Something pleasing to the eye. I will send my man for her this evening.”

Without saying another word, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Alice with a rather displeased looking guard.

“Best not give me any trouble, or I’ll make you regret it,” he told her, leering as he freed her from her chains, all but the one attached to her collar, using it as a leash to force her to her feet and out of the cell. He led her, tugging impatiently when she faltered, out to an small courtyard in which there was a fountain and some benches.

“In you go,” he said, pointing to the water in the large circular basin. Thankfully, he removed the leash, freeing her, taking the opportunity to grope her breasts and pinch her nipples, much to her dismay.

Alice eyed it, shivering. At least it looked clean. With a sigh, she climbed in. While it was cold, it felt invigorating. She noticed a brush and a bar of soap on the ledge and used them to carefully scrub herself until she felt delightfully clean, keeping her back to the guard at all time, nervous of the way he looked at her. She wondered he’d take advantage of her state once she was clean.

‘He’s a card,’ she mused, glancing over her shoulder, wondering what was under his livery. ‘Does he have a cock? Perhaps it’s a very thin one…’

“Hurry it up. His Eminence is expecting you soon and he’ll want you prettied up.”

“Who is he?” Alice wondered out loud, curious as to the identity to the handsome, if seemingly cruel, man in whose company she would soon be.

The Guard barked out a laugh. “Who is he, you ask? Everyone knows who he is. The Knave of Hearts. He’s the queen’s lover, although you would do yourself no favors calling him that to his face. Or to anyone else in the palace, for that matter.”

To emphasize his point, he drew a line across where Alice supposed his throat was with one finger.

“Oh!” Alice exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “Then I shall do my best to keep my tongue so that I may keep my head!”

Alice hurried along until she felt as clean as she’d been since her adventure had started, stepping out of the fountain, water sluicing from her bare flesh and golden tresses.

“I don’t suppose you have a bathing towel?”

“Miss Mince will have one.”

“And who is Miss Mince?”

“The Royal Seamstress. Now come along.”

This time, it wasn’t her breasts he groped, but her bottom and, had she been a little slower to move, me might have fondled her pussy as well.

‘Is everyone in Wonderland so rude?’ she wondered as she hurried ahead of him, just out of reach, down a long hallway until they reached a plain wooden door painted blue, the imprint of a needle and a spool of thread stamped upon it in gold leaf.

The Guardsman rapped his knuckles upon the door, taking the opportunity to fondle Alice’s bottom until both sets of cheeks were quite pink, only stopping when the door cracked open to reveal a single owl like eye.

“How can I serve you?” inquired a soft feminine voice.

“Another tart for the Knave of Hearts, Miss Mince. He wants her prettied up.”

“Does he now?” The door swung further open, revealing a small woman with huge yellow eyes and tangled auburn curls framing a bird-like face.

“You know his tastes.”

“Indeed I do.”

Although her words remained quiet, her tone was one of disapproval. The door opened further. Alice stood shivering as the seamstress appraised her with her owlish eyes, her lips forming a thoughtful frown as she wiggled her fingers at the guard.

“Off with you. Return in four hours. Now, come inside, my dear. First things first. A towel, a robe, and a cup of tea.”

“Four hours? His Eminence will…”

“His Eminence will just have to wait until I’m done with… what did you say your name was, dear?”

“I didn’t, but it’s Alice, Ma’am.”

“Just call me Mitzy, Alice.  Until I’m done with Alice.  Now leave us be or four hours will become six.”

And with that pronouncement, she closed the door on the guard.

“The guards here are terrible rude,” she said, handing Alice a towel. “Now, dry yourself off, dear, while I fetch you a robe to preserve a modicum of modesty. No manners at all. The guards, Alice, not you. I am sure you have lovely manners.”

“Thank you,” Alice blushed, taking the towel from the bird-like woman, her eyes darting around the room. It did indeed have the look of a seamstress’ work place. Bolts of a variety of fabric were laid out upon tables and spools of thread, scissors, and needles were everywhere. Several dressmaker’s dummies were lined up against one wall, most of which wore extravagant dresses and equally fancy bonnets.

“Here, put this on and please, sit.” Miss Mince gestured to a daybed, piled with pillows, against one wall. “I’ve put some tea on as well, and I’ve scones if you’ve an appetite. Jam, too, should you wish. No sense in rushing about. We’ll get you fed and comfortable and then we shall see about making you… well, you’re already pretty, but prettier. Too bad it’ll be wasted on the Knave. He has no real appreciation for beauty. He’s a base man, despite his title.”

Alice did her best to take all that the seamstress said in as she made herself comfortable among the cushions, her mouth watering somewhat at the mention of scones.

“Now, I’m thinking pink, to match out the blush in your cheeks and your lovely pink lips and to compliment your locks. I’ll need to take your measurements but first, tea! I shall return in a trifle.

Alice watched, bemused as the woman disappeared through a narrow door, giving her a moment to relax alone and contemplate her fate.  

It was nice, she thought, to have a nice robe to cover herself with. Although she’d been wandering around Wonderland half naked since she’d arrived, it wasn’t her preferred state. There was a sense of vulnerability always in the back of her head, not to mention it was hardly proper for a young lady, such as herself, to be showing off… well, everything.

‘And Mitzy says she’ll dress me,’ she thought with a smile. ‘And maybe, if luck is with me, I can stay dressed until I choose otherwise!’

With that thought, she took a seat upon a comfortable looking seat and waited patiently for the seamstress to return, which she did, eventually, carrying a tray with a pair of teacups, a teapot, a plate of scones, and a small pot of Jam.

“Here we go, Alice. As promised. A meal fit for a lovely young woman such as yourself. Take your time, my dear, for afterwards we have work to do, for I intend to transform you.”

They sat in comfortable silence, sipping their tea and daintily nibbling on scones, until all that was left were the dregs of tea leaves and some crumbs.

“Feeling better?”

“I am, thank you very much!”

“No thanks needed. Now, to get to work. Please stand and, if you don’t mind, remove your robe so that I can take your measurements. After that, you should probably nap, for you’ll not be needed for a good hour or two and, if you don’t mind my saying so, you look like you could use a few winks.”

And, so, Alice did all that was asked of her before putting her robe back on and settling upon a very comfortable looking chair. Closing her eyes, she thought to herself that it had been a very unsettling day indeed and that, perhaps, it would be nice to take a short nap and do her best to put the events of the morning as far from her mind as she could. And with that, she fell into a deep slumber, into which dreams slipped sneakily in, never mind that they were most certainly not invited…

Once again, Alice found herself standing upon a featureless surface, surrounded by a ghost-like fog that swirled about her body. Strange lights flickered in the mist surrounding her, much like fairy lights, illuminating the massive dais enough that she could see distant shapes at its edge, arranged in a circle surrounding her.  As before, she wore a cloak of feathers that fastened above her breasts and cascaded down her back, spreading out upon whatever surface she was standing upon. Beneath it she was naked, her feet bare, the metal beneath her feet sending a chill through her. 

“Dash and Bother. I was so enjoying the comfort of a plump chair, a full belly, and a warm room.”

Letting out a sigh, she brushed at the dew clinging to her skin, shivering as she turned full circle, peering into the dim fog as she tried to guess the nature of the shape surrounding her, blushing as she remembered the bull-man that she’d ‘ridden’ upon the last time she’d been here.

“What else?” she wondered aloud. There was a mermaid and a goat-man. And the bull-man, of course. The others, however, she’d never gotten the chance to examine up close. Nor from far away, for that matter. 

“I suppose that I should examine those. Perhaps they are part of a puzzle and, if not, at least it’s something to do.”

With that, she set off in a random direction whilst nervously humming a nonsensical tune until she came upon one of the shapes.

‘He’s quite handsome,’ Alice thought, pausing to study the first statue she came to. From the waist up, the figure was a well-built man with rather imposing muscles, a quiver at his side, and a long bow in one hand. He looked quite savage and his face was quite stern. From the waist down, he had the body, and four legs, of a horse.

‘Rather the reverse of the bull-man,’ she thought. ‘I think there is a name for him. A centaur. I believe I read about them in one of father’s books on Greek mythology. He looks as if she would be quite fierce if he was of flesh and blood. I wonder if…”

Unable to help herself, Alice glanced between the centaur’s back legs, her breath catching as she caught sight of its huge prick. Perhaps even larger than the bull-man’s had been. Her pulse began to race as she caught herself entertaining thoughts of how it might feel inside her.

‘Such notions,’ she scolded herself, blushing furiously. ‘I am even worse than a French whore. Only a- oh, I cannot even think the word, let alone say it! Perhaps there is hope for me yet.’

Trembling, she turned from the imposing statue and stared blankly through the fog, her heart pounding in her chest, for as she fought to vanish the image in her head of being bent over on hands and knees while the half-man half-horse stood over her, ready to plunge its gigantic cock into her cunt, her fingers were busy stroking her breasts and nipples until she felt something pleasantly warm and wet making its presence known upon her inner  thigh.

‘I must not,’ she lectured herself and, for once, actually taking her own advice she stood there for a very long time with her eyes closed, fighting the urge to let her hands have their way with her erogenous zones.

‘It might be best,’ she finally decided, ‘If I distracted myself and explored further. Perhaps I’ll discover a statue that is less tempting. An obelisk, for example. Or a cross. Even a tombstone would be preferable. It would certainly help change my mood!’

Before she could take a single step, she heard a curious sound, much like an eggshell being broken. Startled, she spun around and peered through the fog, unable to see anything other than the dark shape of the centaur.

‘I am sixty percent sure I am not hearing things-‘ she began, pausing her silent remark as she realized that the dark figure had grown since she’d last set eyes upon it. ‘Grown or gotten closer and I fear it is the latter and I am not sure whether to stand my ground or flee!’

Before she could come to a decision the creature came out of the fog, bow in hand, its gaze raking over Alice, a leer forming upon its lips.

“You do not belong here,” it, or rather, he announced, leaning forward until his face was inches away from hers. Alice’s breath caught in her chest as she gazed into the darkest deepest eyes she had ever imagined.

“I think I am lost. Or possibly misplaced,” Alice told him, swallowing as she took a step backwards. “I know that I’m in a dream, but I’m not sure whose dream it is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is not a dream. Do I look like a dream to you? Can a dream do this?”

Before she could respond, the centaur reached out and grabbed Alice’s hair in his fist and lifted her so that only her toes touched the ground.

“Unhand me!” Alice cried out in surprised anger, at which he let go, laughing as landed upon her bottom on the hard metal surface.

“That was quite rude,” she admonished as she got back to her feet and attempted to arrange her cloak so it covered her nakedness.

“Don’t move,” the centaur hissed suddenly, pulling an arrow from its quiver and nocking it.

“I d-“

“Be silent, foolish dolt,” it warned her quietly, eyes narrowing as it stared over her head.

And then, Alice heard a sound, one that could only be described as an unsettling scuttle. She remained frozen in place, fear gripping her as the (incredibly rude) centaur seemed to be searching the fog for a target, the arrow on its bow pointing like a finger.

Once again, she heard the unnerving sound. It seemed much closer this time and moving much faster. She was just about to remark upon that when an arrow flew just over her shoulder. Behind her she heard a loud clinking sound followed by an angry roar.

‘I suppose I couldn’t be blamed for screaming,’ she thought to herself and did just that as she was knocked to the ground, a great shadow falling over her. Above her was a mighty beast, it’s teeth bared as it growled so loudly that the very air seemed to vibrate. As for the Centaur, it simply turned tail and fled. From where she lay, Alice watched as it fled, growing smaller and smaller until it simply disappeared in the thick fog.

“Not very chivalrous of him,” Alice declared, her heart pounding with fear. “I really do hope that Mitzy returns and wakes me soon, for my dream is starting to resemble a nightmare!”

Above her, the beast let out a rumbling laugh, one that shook the very ground upon which she lay. Remembering a story she heard about an adventurer surviving an encounter with a wild beast by playing dead, she did just that in hopes that, whatever it was would soon lose interest and leave her be, but that plan was soon foiled as she found herself being rolled over by a very large paw so that she was staring up into the face of the largest lion she had ever imagined, it’s bright yellow eyes brimming with amusement as it smiled down at her, revealing very large, and very pointy, teeth.

“What have we here?” it asked in a voice so loud that one might even describe it as booming.

Alice decided to keep to her plan and simply squeezed her eyes shut and did her best not to breathe.

“Oh, come now,” the Lion admonished her, this time lowering its voice.  “Stop that nonsense. Oldest trick in the book, you know. Playing dead.”

Alice, not knowing what else to do, burst into tears instead.

“Pl-please don’t eat me!” she sobbed, covering her eyes with her hands as she drew her legs up against her chest and did her best to curl into a ball. 

“Eat you? Not bloody likely!” the Lion scoffed, sounding offended.  “What do you take me for? A simple beast? I will have you know that I have had several doctorates granted me from Oxford University as well as several rather prestigious titles including one conferred upon my personage by none other than Her Majesty herself.  Eat you, indeed.”

For her part, Alice let loose one last sob before wiping her eyes with the backs of her knuckles.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said in a trembling voice.

“Well… bygones, I suppose, though an apology is clearly called for.”

“Pardon?” she asked, blinking the lion took several steps backward, allowing her to stand before it, clutching her cloak to her breasts as the lion cleared its throat.

“An apology. Plain and simple. I’m waiting.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“For…?”

Alice bit her lip as the Lions drew nearer, so near that she could smell it’s breath – a pleasant blend of tea, whiskey and pipe tobacco that brought to mind her father in his library.

“For… being… rude?”

“Much better. That wasn’t so hard now, was it.”

“I suppose not,” Alice agreed, thinking it wise to agree with such a dangerous, despite its claims otherwise, beast.

“Now that we have that sorted-“

“What have we here?”

Alice startled, hearing a feminine whinny directly behind her.

“I was just about to sort that out. A trespasser, perhaps. Possibly a ruffian of uncertain parentage or a rabble rouser, although she doesn’t look like a pickpocket and she most definitely doesn’t smell like a Scotsman.”

“Nasty things, Scotsmen,” the unicorn said, for while the lion was addressing the new arrival, Alice had spared a glance over her shoulder, and that is exactly what it was – a snow white horse with a single spiral horn mounted on its forehead. “Almost as bad as Catholics.”

“I have not yet ruled out the possibility that she is a foreign spy.”

“And are you a foreign spy?” the unicorn asked, bumping Alice’s shoulder with its horn until she was turned around and facing the fantastical creature.

“No, I am not.”

“Well, if you’re not a foreign spy or a trespasser or a rabble rouser or a ruffian or a Scotsman, what are you?”

“I am not at all sure anymore,” Alice sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I am no longer That Alice, whom I once was very sure about. And I am still learning about This Alice, and while I suspect she is many things that That Alice is not, I am not entirely sure that I can put a finger on exactly what, or who, she, or rather I, am.”

“What would you like to be?”

Alice opened her mouth to answer and then shut it again. It’s a question she’d never really considered.  Since she’d left the riverbank she’d gone through so many changes, none of which had been wholly her choice, but rather, changes of circumstance. Not that she regretted any of them. Not in the least. Just the opposite, still…

“I am not entirely sure,” she admitted, and started to pace back and forth whilst tapping her finger against her temple (something she had often observed her father doing and she could only assume that it helped one sort out their thoughts).

“A soldier, perhaps?” The lion suggested.

“No. Definitely not a soldier,” Alice replied distractedly, shaking her head.

“A famer?” the unicorn mused, keeping pace alongside Alice.

Alice simply shook her head at the suggestion, pausing to rest her head against the unicorn’s flank and let out a soft sigh.

“What about a banker?” The lion wondered, sitting down on its haunches and furrowing its brow.

“Sounds perfectly boring,” she replied. “I am finding that, despite everything, I have become fond of having adventures and I can’t imagine going home and settling down again. It might be alright for some, but not, I suspect, for me.”

“I was just saying earlier, over tea, that It has been a while since I’ve been on an adventure.” The lion mused.  “I used to go on an adventure every Tuesday. Not just small adventures. Some of them were quite grand, in fact.”

“Why did you stop?” Alice asked, walking over to the great beast and stroking his mane soothingly.

“Guess I just outgrew them.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame. Now that I’m having one, I hope to never outgrow them.”

“It would be nice to go on another. Perhaps I should,” he announced, sitting a little straighter and letting out a chuff of warm breath.

“I think it sounds like a splendid idea,” the unicorn replied.

Alice clapped her hands in delight, beaming enthusiastically with encouragement.

“It could be truly magnificent! You should start now.”

“I think I shall!”

The lion stood suddenly and let out an earthshaking roar. Alice had to clap her hands over her ears to avoid being deafened. As for the unicorn, it reared on its hindlegs and let out a loud whinny, its horn gleaming gold in the sunlight.  Alice imagined she could hear trumpets playing a fanfare as the two creatures stood, one to either side of her.

“I am forever in your debt,” The lion told her, taking one knee whilst the unicorn did the same, bowing its head, tapping its spiraled horn first upon one shoulder, and then the other.

“May you be successful upon your own adventure.”

“Upon your quest.”

“Best of luck!”

“Remember, steer clear of Scotsmen.”

“And Protestants!”

Alice watched as they disappeared into the swirling fog, leaving her alone with her thoughts, of which there were many.

“It seems my dream has come to an end and yet, I am still here.”

She went back to pacing, her thoughts in disarray as she wrestled with the question of whom and of what she had become. ‘If I am being honest with myself, while some of my adventures have been truly frightening, I have enjoyed some aspects quiet immensely, those being the ones in which I felt like a… ‘

She paused, sure that her cheeks were bright pink with embarrassment. “Just say it, Alice, don’t be embarrassed,” she chided herself out loud. “I have enjoyed being treated like a French whore more than a little. There, I have said it out loud and I refuse to ashamed.” She stamped her foot down on the ground, just to add emphasis to her declaration.

“In fact, I plan on continuing to act wantonly, no matter what anyone says or thinks and I shall not feel the need to apologize for it, not in the least!”

That settled, she looked around her, deciding what to do next. From where she stood she could discern nothing beyond the fog.

“I wonder if the centaur is still about?” she mused out loud. “Perhaps I should see if I can find him. Not that I am thinking about his rather impressive prick, mind you. Just that it would be nice to have someone to converse with, even if he was rather rude, while I’m waiting for this dream to end.”

She began walking in the direction that she believed he had run off in when the lion had appeared, amending her words.  “If I am being entirely honest, I am not not thinking about his prick and how big it was and what it would feel like inside my cunny. Rather good, I imagine. And it has been a while since I’ve been properly ravished. At least a day which seems like a very long time, or at least it would if I were actually a French whore, which I am not. At least I’m not French, and somehow being an English whore sounds less decadent. I am fairly certain that French whores live in lavishly styled bordellos run by a fashionable Madame and lounge around in scanty lingerie, the sight of which would make even a sailor blush, while English whores stand upon dirty street corners in the rain and advertise their wares, such as they are, with course language and rude gestures. I really should have paid more attention to my French lessons as a child. Perhaps I might put more effort into them in the future.”

Such were her musings that she paid little attention to where she was actually going, wandering aimlessly in a vague direction. And so it was that she came upon an unexpected sight; a gaily lit place standing upon a small hill, from which music and laughter floated down the winding pathway leading up to it.

“Oh! It sounds like a party or perhaps a celebration. I should very much like to take a closer look.”

And with that, Alice set determinedly up the path, curious as to what was being celebrated.