silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its
mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.

`Who are YOU?' said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice
replied, rather shyly, `I--I hardly know, sir, just at present--
at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think
I must have been changed several times since then.'

`What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly.
`Explain yourself!'

`I can't explain MYSELF, I'm afraid, sir' 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 can't understand it myself to begin with; and
being so many different sizes in a 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 will some day, you
know--and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll
feel it a little queer, won't you?'

`Not a bit,' said the Caterpillar.