You know very well you're not real." "I AM real!" said Alice and began to cry.
"You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying," Tweedledee remarked: "there's nothing to cry about." "If I wasn't real," Alice said--half-laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous--"I shouldn't be able to cry." "I hope you don't suppose those are real tears ?" Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
"I know they're talking nonsense," Alice thought to herself: "and it's foolish to cry about it." So she brushed away her tears, and went on as cheerfully as she could.

"At any rate I'd better be getting out of the wood, for really it's coming on very dark.

Do you think it's going to rain ?" Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and looked up into it.

"No, I don't think it is," he said: "at least--not under HERE.

Nohow." "But it may rain OUTSIDE ?" "It may--if it chooses," said Tweedledee: "we've no objection.
Contrariwise." "Selfish things!" thought Alice, and she was just going to say "Good-night" and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized her by the wrist.
"Do you see THAT ?" he said, in a voice choking with passion, and his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.
"It's only a rattle," Alice said, after a careful examination of the little white thing.