Remove the pudding!" and the waiters took it away so quickly that Alice couldn't return its bow.
However, she didn't see why the Red Queen should be the only one to give orders, so, as an experiment, she called out "Waiter! Bring back the pudding!" and there it was again in a moment like a conjuring-trick.

It was so large that she couldn't help feeling a LITTLE shy with it, as she had been with the mutton; however, she conquered her shyness by a great effort and cut a slice and handed it to the Red Queen.
"What impertinence!" said the Pudding.

"I wonder how you'd like it, if I were to cut a slice out of YOU, you creature!" It spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and Alice hadn't a word to say in reply: she could only sit and look at it and gasp.
"Make a remark," said the Red Queen: "it's ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding!" "Do you know, I've had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me to-day," Alice began, a little frightened at finding that, the moment she opened her lips, there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed upon her; "and it's a very curious thing, I think--every poem was about fishes in some way.

Do you know why they're so fond of fishes, all about here ?" She spoke to the Red Queen, whose answer was a little wide of the mark.
"As to fishes," she said, very slowly and solemnly, putting her mouth close to Alice's ear, "her White Majesty knows a lovely riddle--all in poetry--all about fishes.

Shall she repeat it ?" "Her Red Majesty's very kind to mention it," the White Queen murmured into Alice's other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon.