Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland by T.T. Sutherland Page B

robes behind her. Alice followed her down to the kitchen, where delicious smells mingled with the sounds of pots and pans and people singing as they worked.
    As they entered, an entire pot of soup was thrown at the door. Alice blinked at the wreckage of the mill. “Is the March Hare here?” she asked, guessing.
    â€œYou’re late for soup, you wee besom!” bellowed the Hare from across the room. He picked up another pot of soup, and the White Queen ducked. The soup splattered on the door behind Alice. She touched one finger to the wall for a taste.
    â€œIt could use salt,” she offered.
    A saltshaker came flying at her, and Alice ducked to avoid it.
    Alice followed the White Queen over to a large cast-iron stove, where a heavy pot full of a curious-smelling liquid was bubbling. The Queen took ingredients from a nearby cupboard, murmuring to herself.
    Alice wrinkled her nose, wondering if it might be better if she didn’t hear this. She could see a lot of strange-looking things inside the cupboard— ordinary herbs and spices were lined up alongside glass jars of eyeballs and bottles full of shredded insect parts.
    The White Queen glanced up at Alice with a smile. “Ah, pishalver . Let me think. A pinch of wormfat, urine of the horsefly, buttered fingers . . .” Her face turned thoughtful again as she reached back into the cupboard. “My sister preferred to study Dominion Over Living Things. Tell me, how does she seem to you?”
    â€œPerfectly horrid,” Alice answered truthfully.
    â€œAnd her head?”
    â€œBulbous,” said Alice.
    â€œI think she may have some kind of growth in there . . . something pressing on her brain,” the White Queen said, shaking her head sadly. “Three coins from a dead man’s pocket, two tablespoons of wishful thinking . . .”
    â€œYou can’t imagine the things that go on in that place,” Alice blurted. She couldn’t understand how the White Queen could sit here, calmly making potions and discussing theories, while her subjects suffered so much under the Red Queen.
    â€œOh, yes, I can,” the Queen assured her. “But when a champion steps forth to slay the Jabberwocky, the people will rise against her.” She leaned over and sniffed the nasty concoction in the pot, then spit into it. “That should do it.”
    The White Queen fished a spoon out of a drawer, dipped it in the potion, and offered it to Alice. “Blow,” she cautioned her.
    Alice blew on the potion to cool it off, then took a sip. She knew better than to drink too much this time. Within a moment, she had shrunk to her normal size—or at least, she felt normal next to the White Queen, so she seemed right to herself. She wondered how she would measure up out in the real world, if she ever got back there.
    â€œFeel better?” asked the Queen.
    â€œMuch,” said Alice.
    The Queen replaced the spoon in the pot and dusted her hands off, looking suddenly official and businesslike. “There’s someone here who would like to speak with you.”

Chapter Fifteen
    Down in the depths of the Red Queen’s dungeons, the Hatter was slumped on the floor of a cold cell, staring off into space. Mallymkun was trapped inside a large birdcage hanging from the ceiling. She clung to the wiry iron bars and gazed at him, but he was beyond her reach at the moment, both physically and emotionally.
    She peered into the cell across the way, where a female bloodhound named Bielle was pacing around her shivering pups, trying desperately to warm them. Mallymkun was fairly certain she recognized her as Bayard’s wife, but Bielle was too upset to stop and talk with the Dormouse long enough to confirm it.
    Just then, the clomp of heavy footsteps on the dungeon stairs announced the arrival of Stayne and his Red Knights. Bielle whirled and stared at the approaching guards, although they ignored her and her