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Alice had been playing croquet with her older sister on a fine, autumn afternoon. Despite the younger girl's desire for a fair match, she was certain that her sister had been letting her win. Now eight years old, Alice protested, insisting that she be taken far more seriously. She had, after all, once played croquet against a queen.
It had been a most unusual croquet match, with a most unusual queen. Alice's sister would not know, of course, how much more challenging croquet was when using a flamingo as a mallet, and while fearing that anything—however nonsensical—might be deemed a misstep worthy of death by decapitation. Surely, such experiences counted for something, Alice thought. And so, eager to prove herself a stalwart competitor to her sister, Alice swung her mallet with greater determination than ever, and gave the croquet ball a satisfying thwack.
To Alice's disappointment, the ball darted off at an unexpected angle into the nearby bushes. She gave chase, parting branches to step into the thicket and search the underbrush beneath a copse of trees.
"Now, where could it have gone?" puzzled Alice, stepping into a small clearing.
Behind her, a familiar voice asked, "Looking for this?"
Alice whirled around. “Who…?” and immediately spied her errant croquet ball resting against the base of an old oak. She was sure it had not been there just a moment ago. Hovering above it, a disembodied grin broadened. "Cheshire Puss!" she exclaimed.
Alice scooped up her croquet ball, placing it in the pocket of her linen pinafore. The rest of the Cheshire Cat's head materialized before her. Slowly, the Cat's body also appeared, revealing the grinning feline perched upon the low-hanging bough of the tree.
Alice was delighted to meet her old friend again and wasted no time enthusiastically relating to him all that had happened since last they'd seen each other.
The Cheshire Cat listened patiently, languidly waving his tail, to and fro. Then, he stretched out his paws before him, and began to knead the bark of the tree branch with his long claws. His wide grin widened, and widened (and widened still), until Alice could see every single one of his sharp teeth, even the pointy molars in the corners of his mouth.
"You're expected," remarked the Cheshire Cat, once she had finished speaking.
"Am I?" said Alice.
"Yes. You have an engagement to keep," the Cat added.
"I do?" Alice said.
"You do. In that direction." With the wave of his paw, the Cat gestured broadly at nothing in particular.
A considerate girl, Alice insisted cautiously that her sister would be wondering by now where she'd got to. But when Alice turned 'round to point behind her, she saw that the wood was not the one she'd left behind only moments ago. Gone were the bushes she'd stepped through into the glade. In their place were the trunks of gnarled, wide, ancient-looking oak trees.
"Well!" exclaimed Alice.
"Well?" the Cheshire Cat asked.
When she turned to look questioningly at her feline friend once more, a grey stone path lay before her, leading out of the wood. Alice shrugged. There would be no harm in staying for a short while. Intrigued by the mysterious engagement, she gave no thought to how she would manage to return, telling the Cat that it would be impolite to decline.
At that, the Cheshire Cat promptly disappeared.
Disappointed, Alice pondered aloud, "I wonder if I shall see him again?"
The Cat's grin appeared just long enough to reply, "Of course."
Alice followed the stone path out of the wood. Upon emerging onto a grassy hillside, she came upon an inordinately large, brown leather boot. It had a shapely heel, brass buttons at the ankle, and stood as tall as a two-storey house.
"Oh!" she uttered, for it was not the boot of an average-sized person.
At first, Alice wondered if she had magically shrunk again.
"Or has everything else gotten bigger, all of a sudden?" said Alice.
Feeling that neither was the case, she glanced about in concern, wondering if she might expect a giantess to appear to claim her footwear.
Several small children poked their heads out of the giant boot's buttonholes, peering down curiously at Alice as though through narrow windows in a tall, crooked house. They hollered that their expected visitor had at last arrived.
An old woman in a checkered kerchief leaned out from the unbuttoned placket at the boot's ankle to regard Alice.
"Come in, come in, my dear," she greeted Alice, beckoning her inside.
Alice looked about for the Cheshire Cat, who reappeared from a new perch atop the tall leather boot.
"Go on. Don't keep Mother Hubbard waiting," the Cat urged, then promptly disappeared again.
And so, taking in and holding a deep breath, Alice ducked her head and stepped into the boot through the ankle, the old woman holding the placket open for her, as though it were a door.
The interior of the boot was nothing at all like Alice expected. When she could hold her breath no longer and gasped in a new lungful of air, she was relieved to find that it did not smell like a worn, old boot. Instead, the aroma of home cooking filled the air. The boot was not cramped in the slightest, either. It was spacious, though modestly furnished. There was plenty of room for the children (no fewer than nine, Alice counted) to run about, much to their old mother's consternation.
Mother Hubbard instructed Alice to help her serve the children supper. Obediently (though not without some embarrassment) the girl ladled plain broth—the only food available—into nine wooden bowls. When, in unison, the children rose up in complaint about the meagre meal, their mother threatened to whip them soundly and then send them all to bed.
As they quickly consumed their pathetic excuse for a soup, the children made even more of a ruckus, loudly clattering their bowls and spoons. But before their cross mother could whip them, they leaped away from the table, dashing upstairs to bed.
"There shall be no more bread," the old mother said, grumbling to Alice that the last time she went to the baker to buy some, she’d come back to find her dog dead. "From now on, it's bones and bone broth for the lot of them!"
“Why? It makes no sense, depriving the children of better food over something as trivial as that,” Alice protested with righteous indignation, looking 'round in hopes of the Cheshire Cat’s agreement. Even her kittens at home were kept better fed than this.
“I tell you,” retorted old Mother Hubbard, "That wasn't the worst of it. I went to the undertaker to buy my dog a coffin, and when I came back, the dog was alive and laughing!"
"I still don't see how..."
"Now there's no more money left to buy bread, you foolish girl!"
"But you do have a splendid new coffee table, madam," suggested the grinning Cheshire Cat, lying across a coffin which sat in the middle of the woman's living room. He winked slowly at Alice.
"I suppose," the old woman harrumphed. "Well, then what say you to this, girl? Since you are so clever, I shall make you a promise. Firstly: Can you play skittles?"
"I can," said Alice proudly.
"Then follow me."
Old Mother Hubbard led Alice through a small door in the boot's heel, and into the back yard. The old woman gestured toward a large barrel at the edge of a well-kept lawn, and said, "Be a good girl, and help me set up the pins."
But instead of wooden pins, from the barrel, the old woman produced two meerkats. Holding both of them by the neck—one in each hand—Mother Hubbard carried the meerkats onto the lawn and set them on their feet. The meerkats stood upon their hind legs, side-by-side.
"Hurry along, now," Old Mother Hubbard urged Alice, "we haven't got all day."
Alice, however, was short. The barrel was tall. Alice hoisted herself up as best as she could, to lean into the mouth of the barrel. Steadying herself against the edge of the barrel with one hand, Alice leaned into it with great care, lest she fall headlong into it. Reaching into the barrel, she managed to withdraw from the mass of fur within it a single, squirming meerkat, which she held by its skinny belly.
The meerkat wriggled frantically in her hands. As it did, Alice leaned back from it, farther and farther, fighting to keep it from escaping her grasp. At last, the meerkat broke free. When it did, Alice lost her balance entirely, falling backward and tipping the barrel over with her. Out of the barrel spilled the remaining meerkats. They scampered over her and across the lawn to join the two already standing upright. The meerkats lined themselves up into three rows, then rose upon their haunches, obediently waiting to be Mother Hubbard's skittles.
"If you win," the old woman said, "then I will sell my coffin to buy bread. Let us begin. Guests bowl first."
"But I haven't anything to bowl with," Alice said.
"Yes you do," the Cheshire Cat said from atop the barrel. "In your pocket."
"Of course!" said Alice. "Thank-you, Cheshire Puss!"
Pleased at being thought helpful, the Cat grinned the widest that Alice had ever seen.
When Alice reached into her pinafore, expecting to retrieve her croquet ball, she withdrew instead a white armadillo curled up in her hand. "Oh!" she said.
Mother Hubbard cleared her throat, tapping her foot impatiently. "Are we playing, or not?"
If hedgehogs can be croquet balls, thought Alice, then I suppose one can bowl perfectly well with armadillos.
Without further ado, Alice rolled the little white armadillo towards the standing meerkats.
As the rolling armadillo neared the meerkats, they shuffled backwards, out of the armadillo's way.
"Why, this isn't fair at all," Alice said, with a frustrated sigh.
"Who ever said life was fair?" Mother Hubbard replied.
"She's right, you know." said the Cheshire Cat.
Children have an innate sensitivity to unfairness of any kind, and so Alice frowned at this, folding her arms across her chest. No one likes to be cheated, even the very young. But Alice was growing up. And the older you get, the greater the dissatisfaction you have at being told that you are wrong.
But Alice had been taught to respect and obey her elders, and was still young enough to assume this meant never contradicting or disagreeing with them. She was still learning that part of growing up is knowing when to speak up, and discerning when it's best to keep your thoughts to yourself.
The old woman said, "Now, it's my turn." Producing from her own pocket a wheel of cheese, she rolled it towards the standing meerkats. This time, the meerkats stayed in place and were bowled over.
"Definitely not fair at all," said Alice, no longer able to hold her tongue. "And, what's more, you've had cheese all along, while your children go hungry?!"
But then the meerkats sprang up, pouncing upon the wheel of cheese and devouring it, transforming into old Mother Hubbard's ravenous children as they did.
"Gracious!" exclaimed Alice, who'd not seen such atrocious table manners since the mad tea party at the Hatter's. She consoled herself with some relief that at least the children now had been fed.
Oblivious to any of this, old Mother Hubbard danced a victory jig at having won the game, much to Alice's irritation.
"Best mind your ball, my dear," the Cheshire Cat said helpfully.
Waddling past the children who were now fighting over the remaining scraps of cheese rind, Alice's white armadillo ignored the hubbub.
"Wait!" Alice called out to the armadillo, who had curled itself up into her missing croquet ball. Not again, she thought, chasing after it as it rolled into some nearby bushes. Parting branches, Alice stepped into a thicket of trees, searching the underbrush beneath them.
"Oh, there you are!" Alice's older sister said. "Where on earth have you been?"
Alice caught up her croquet ball, turning to her sister with a wide, Cheshire-like grin. Cryptically, she replied, “I've been to London to visit the Queen.”