"Then it ought to be Rule One," said Al-ice. The King turned pale and shut his note-book at once. "The ju-ry can now take the case," he said in a weak voice. "There's more to come yet, please your ma-jes-ty," said the White Rab-bit, as he jumped up; "this thing has just been picked up." "What's in it?" asked the Queen. "I haven't read it yet," said the White Rab-bit, "but it seems to be a note from the Knave of Hearts to some one." "Whose name is on it?" said one of the ju-rors. "There's no name on it," said the White Rab-bit; he looked at it with more care as he spoke, and add-ed, "it isn't a note at all; it's a set of rhymes." "Please your ma-jes-ty," said the Knave, "I didn't write it, and they can't prove that I did; there's no name signed at the end." "If you didn't sign it," said the King, "that makes your case worse. You must have meant some harm or you'd have signed your name like an hon-est man." All clapped their hands at this as it was the first smart thing the King had said that day. "That proves his guilt," said the Queen. "It does not prove a thing," said Al-ice, "Why you don't so much as know what the rhymes are." "Read them," said the King. "Where shall I be-gin, your ma-jes-ty?" the White Rab-bit asked. "Why at the first verse, of course," the King said look-ing quite grave, "and go on till you come to the end; then stop." The White Rab-bit read: "They told me you had been to her, And spoke of me to him: She gave me a good name, in-deed, But said I could not swim. "He sent them word that I had gone (We know it to be true): If she should push the mat-ter on What would be-come of you? "I gave her one, they gave him two, You gave us three, or more; They all came back from him to you, Though they were mine be-fore. "My no-tion was, she liked him best, (Be-fore she had this fit) This must be kept from all the rest But him and you and it." "That's the best thing we've heard yet," said the King, rub-bing his hands as if much pleased; "so now let the ju-ry--" "If one of you can tell what it means," said Al-ice (she had grown so large by this time that she had no fear of the King) "I should be glad to hear it. I don't think there's a grain of sense in it." The ju-ry all wrote down on their slates, "She doesn't think there's a grain of sense in it." But no one tried to tell what it meant. "If there's no sense in it," said the King, "that saves a world of work, you know, as we needn't try to find it. And yet I don't know," he went on, as he spread out the rhymes on his knee, and looked at them with one eye: "I seem to find some sense in them--'said I could not swim'--you can't swim, can you?" he added, turn-ing to the Knave. The Knave shook his head with a sigh. "Do I look like it?" he said. (Which it was plain he did not, as he was made of card board.)