and Alice couldn't help looking at her in great astonishment.
'How can she knit with so many?' the puzzled child thought to herself. 'She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!'
'Can you row?' the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles as she spoke.
'Yes, a little – but not on land – and not with needles –' Alice was beginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her hands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between banks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.
'Feather!' cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.
This didn't sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the water, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and would hardly come out again.
'Feather! Feather!' the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. 'You'll be catching a crab directly.'
'A dear little crab!' thought Alice. 'I should like that.'
'Didn't you hear me say "Feather"?' the Sheep cried angrily, taking up quite a bunch of needles.
'Indeed I did,' said Alice: 'you've said it very often – and very loud. Please, where are the crabs?'
'In the water, of course!' said the Sheep, sticking
