`Nothing,' said Alice. 

`Nothing WHATEVER?' persisted the King. 

`Nothing whatever,' said Alice. 

`That's very important,' the King said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit interrupted: `UNimportant, your Majesty means, of course,' he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.

`UNimportant, of course, I meant,' the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, `important--unimportant-- unimportant--important--' as if he were trying which word sounded best. 

Some of the jury wrote it down `important,' and some `unimportant.' Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; `but it doesn't matter a bit,' she thought to herself. 

At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, cackled out `Silence!' and read out from his book, `Rule Forty-two. ALL PERSONS MORE THAN A MILE HIGH TO LEAVE THE COURT.' 

Everybody looked at Alice. 

`I'M not a mile high,' said Alice. 

`You are,' said the King. 

`Nearly two miles high,' added the Queen. 

`Well, I shan't go, at any rate,' said Alice: `besides, that's not a regular rule: you invented it just now.'
 

`It's the oldest rule in the book,' said the King. 

`Then it ought to be Number One,' said Alice. 

The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. `Consider your verdict,' he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. 

`There's more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,' said the White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; `this paper has just been picked up.'

`What's in it?' said the Queen. 

`I haven't opened it yet,' said the White Rabbit, `but it seems to be a letter, written by the prisoner to--to somebody.'