"The playtime, unfortunately is over," he said. "What happened to Turpin and Frigate may happen to us."

He went to a table and ordered a glass of Scotch from one of the living chess pieces, a Castle. He also got a fine Havana pana-tela. Cigar in one hand, glass in the other, he strolled over to the croquet field. The field was as in the book, ridges and furrows with bent-over card-androids serving as arches, flamingoes as mallets, and rolled-up hedgehogs as balls. Since Alice was not cruel or callous, she must have made arrangements in the neural systems of the birds and animals that would prevent them from being hurt.

Turpin seemed to have forgotten his troubles; he was having a good time at croquet.

An hour passed. Burton had two more Scotches. He took rides on the merry-go-round and again on the rollercoaster and watched the orchestra for a while. Most of the musicians were Frog- and Fish-Footmen, but the conductor was Bill the Lizard, a giant saurian smoking a cigar and wearing a flat cap. They had been programmed to play any kind of music from waltzes to dixieland to classical. At the moment, they were blasting out a wild barbaric piece that Burton thought must be the rock-and-roll described by Frigate. After listening for a while, he could understand why Frigate had been tempted to erase all of this type of music from the records.

An ugly Duchess and a Queen of Hearts waddled by him.

"Off with their heads! Off with their heads!"

"Beat him until he sneezes!"

Burton went back to the croquet field, played a game, wandered around, stopping to chat with several people, and then watched the Mad Tea Party for a while. The child-android playing Alice was charming; the large dark eyes had the real Alice's dreaminess. Burton could understand why Mr. Dodgson had fallen in love with the ten-year-old girl.

When the Mad Hatter said, "And ever since that, he won't do a thing I ask! It's always six o'clock now," Burton walked away. It was amusing to watch them go through the whole scene once, but the repetition was boring.

Feeling in need of exercise, he played volleyball for a while. The game was fun and vigorous, and he loved to watch Bill Williams' woman leap into the air to bat a ball back. Then, sweating, he walked to a chair and sat down. A Tweedledee and a Tweedledum asked him what he wanted. He ordered a mint julep. The two grotesquely fat androids went to a table and there had an argument—programmed in, of course—about which one would serve him. While their heated and amusing discussion was going on, he watched the blue caterpillar on a nearby giant mushroom smoking its hookah. In a way, he thought, it was a pity that all these things were to be destroyed. Yet, he could understand why Alice had tired of them.

He watched the dance floor for a while. The orchestra was playing some type of music he did not recognize. Frigate was walking by then, and Burton called him over. "What is that music, and what kind of gyrations are the dancers doing?"

"I don't know the particular piece," Frigate said. "It's from the 1920s, sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it. The dance is called the Black Bottom."

"Why do they call it that?"

"I don't know."

Alice and Monteith seemed to be enjoying the wild motions. At last she had found a partner to share her love of dancing. Burton had never cared for it. In fact, he had only danced several times in his life, and that had been for the edification of a black African tribal chief.

The fat identical-twin schoolboys, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, walked by him. Neither had a drink on a tray. Burton said, "What...?" and at that moment the music stopped in the middle of a bar. He rose and stared at the stand. The musicians had put aside their instruments and were getting down off the bandstand.

"What's going on?" Frigate said.

Alice was staring puzzledly at the departing musicians.

"Not planned for," Burton said. A chill passed over his skin.

The little Frenchman, de Marbot, his blue eyes wide, trotted up to Burton. "Something is wrong," he said.

Burton turned to take in three hundred and sixty degrees of vision. The androids were hastening to the woods, their pace increasing. All except the Mock Turtle, which had fallen on its back and was bawling and kicking its legs. No, not all were heading for the trees. A number were spreading toward the west end of the field, where the hill began. Among them were the Red and White Knights on their chargers, the Lion and the Unicorn, and the Gryphon. They stopped just before coming to the hill and turned around to face the field.

By then the other androids had disappeared into the shadows under the massive oaks.

Burton glanced at de Marbot's scabbard and the hilt of the saber sticking from it.

"I daresay you may have to use your snickersnee, Marcelin," he said. "How many ... are all your Hussars armed?"

"Why, yes," de Marbot said. "We have twelve sabers among us."

"Tell them to draw them," Burton said. "Listen, Marcelin, I think we're going to be attacked. Somebody, I'm sure, has put in an overriding program in the androids. Alice didn't plan this."

He glanced around. Star Spoon must have had the same idea. She was running for the rollercoaster now. He looked at de Marbot.

"You have the most military experience," he said. "You're in command now."

He turned and began yelling, "Everybody over here! Quick! On the double!"

Some of the crowd came running. Others stood still as if frozen; the rest ambled toward him.

Maglenna, pulling on Alice's hand, ran up to Burton. "I say, what's going on?"

"I am not sure." Burton looked at Alice. "You don't have the slightest idea?"

She shook her head. "No. Could the Snark be behind this? What can we do about it?"

"That's up to Marcelin," Burton said. "But I think we should make for the chairs. You and Monteith can sit on somebody's lap. We can't get through them—" he indicated the grim beasts guarding the west edge "—without serious loss."

De Marbot was talking in rapid French to his friends. But he stopped and looked at the south edge of the field. The androids were coming out from the forest with weapons: spears, swords, maces, morning stars and daggers.

Burton swiveled to take in the north and east sides of the field. Androids were emerging from the shadows there; all were similarly armed. And those from the east side were hurrying to place themselves between the guests and their flying vehicles.

"Too late," Burton said.

De Marbot was bawling orders out in Esperanto so that all would understand him. They began to form a ragged square with the Hussars on the eastern side. Burton called to him, "I'm going to get some weapons."

"Where?" de Marbot said.

"The musical instruments. Some of them can be used as clubs."

He ran to the bandstand with some men behind him. The androids from the north, those nearest the stand, did not change their pace or utter a sound. If they had run, they could have cut Burton off. But he was able to pick up a saxophone, and the others got guitars, bass fiddles, flutes, French horns, anything that might be wielded as a blunt instrument of warfare.

They ran back to the square, where they were arranged in a ragged fashion by de Marbot. He was quivering with eagerness, his blue eyes bright, his round face split with a smile. "Ah, my darlings!" he cried to his Hussars. "You will show these monsters how the soldiers of Napoleon fought!"

His voice was stilled by a great whistling bellow. All looked at the south side of the field, where the Jabberwock was rearing up on its hind legs, stretching its snaky neck out, its mouth gaping, exposing the four sharp teeth. It did not, however, as Burton had feared it would, charge at once. It dropped to all fours and walked slowly toward them, bellowing.