said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see."
"I don't see," said the caterpillar.
"I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," Alice replied very politely, "for I ca'n't understand it myself, and really to be so many different sizes in one day is very confusing."
"It isn't," said the caterpillar.
"Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet," said Alice, "but when you have to turn into a chrysalis, you know, and then after that into a butterfly, I should think it'll feel a little queer, don't you think so?"
"Not a bit," said the caterpillar.
"All I know is," said Alice, "it would feel queer to me."
"You!" said the caterpillar contemptuously, "who are you?"
Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation: Alice felt a little irritated at the caterpillar making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said very gravely "I think you ought to tell me who you are, first."
"Why?" said the caterpillar.
Here was another puzzling question:
