This didn’t sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the water, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and would hardly come out again.

‘Feather! Feather!’ the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. ‘You’ll be catching a crab directly.’

‘A dear little crab!’ thought Alice. ‘I should like that.’

‘Didn’t you hear me say “Feather”?’ the Sheep cried angrily, taking up quite a bunch of needles.

‘Indeed I did,’ said Alice: ‘you’ve said it very often — and very loud. Please, where are the crabs?’