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“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” Alice screamed as she tumbled through a brilliantly colored sky. The ground was rushing toward her at an alarming rate, and unlike during her tumble down the rabbit hole, there were no objects to slow her descent.
“Oof!” Alice landed with a thud on the petals of a giant chrysanthemum. Sitting up in a daze, she realized the flower stuck out of an arrangement on a table in the garden of Marmoreal Castle. To her delight, her old friends were gathered around the table, peering down at her.
At the end sat McTwisp, the White Rabbit, who had first led her to that magical place; and Thackery, the wacky March Hare. The Tweedles, bald and roly-poly as ever, rocked slightly on a bench to the side. Opposite them, Bayard, the brown-and-black bloodhound with the sharpest nose in Underland, woofed a low greeting at Alice. Pacing back and forth among the papers scattered on the table was Mallymkun, the fearless Dormouse. And directly in front of Alice, the ever-beautiful and kind face of the White Queen, Mirana, peered down, although her expression looked troubled.
Alice stood and brushed herself off. She beamed up at everyone, but nobody returned her smile.
“Have I come at a bad time?” she asked.
“We were afraid you weren't coming at all,” Mirana said somberly. With gentle hands, she moved Alice down from the centerpiece to rest on the table.
“Whatever's the matter?” Alice said. The Jabberwocky was dead, and with Iracebeth, the Red Queen; and her lackey, Stayne, banished to the Outlands, Alice had hoped Underland would enjoy years of peace.
“The Hatter's the matter,” McTwisp said. Alice realized with a jolt that the Mad Hatter was indeed missing—something he would hate. He always loved a good party.
“He's mad,” the Tweedles said in unison.
“Hatter?” Alice said. “Yes, I know. That's what makes him so... him.” She wished they'd get to the real problem.
“But worse,” Tweedledum continued ominously, bending his head down toward her. “Denies himself laughter.”
“Grows darker, less dafter,” his brother finished.
“And no scheme of ours can raise any sort of smile,” Chessur explained. “We'd rather hoped you might help us save him.”
Alice frowned. “Save him? What happened?”
Everyone exchanged looks; then Bayard nosed forward. “There was a great storm and we ventured out on to Tulgey Woods to investigate,” Bayard began. He described how the wind had scattered leaves and branches everywhere. As they'd walked along, they had started to play fetch, with Bayard hurling a stick and Hatter bounding after it on all fours, his tongue hanging out sideways.
“Hatter was perfectly Hatterish,” Bayard continued, “until...”
He continued, explaining how Hatter had suddenly frozen. Then Hatter had plucked a tiny hat made out of blue paper from inside a tree stump, where it appeared to have been hidden.
“That was the start of it,” Bayard said ruefully.
“Of what?” Alice asked, pressing him.
“The grand decline,” Mirana said somberly.
McTwisp hopped forward. “He's convinced his family are still alive.”
“Which has made him deadly serious,” Bayard went on.
“Terminally sane,” Tweedledum intoned. And for once, his brother had nothing to add.
Mallymkun sniffed, then shook her head.
Silence fell over the table, everyone lost in thought. With hopeful eyes, Mirana turned to Alice. “And then we thought of you.”
Alice drew herself up tall—well, as tall as she could, given her diminished height. No matter what, she would not let them—and, more importantly, the Hatter—down. “Where is he?” she asked.
After ducking behind a bush, eating a bit of Upelkuchen cake—she knew better than to take large bites—and adjusting her outfit, Alice emerged feeling normal-sized. She nodded at Mirana, who broke into the first smile Alice had seen since she had arrived.
The White Queen then led the way out of the castle's garden and down into a shaded wood. The rest of the gang trailed behind them.
Mirana stopped at the edge of a clearing overlooking a canyon. Straight ahead, a narrow strip of land barely three feet wide stuck out into the canyon and led to a house that could only belong to the Mad Hatter. The house was shaped like a top hat, with circular walls and a roof that jutted out like a brim.
With careful steps, Alice picked her way along the path and walked up onto the red-and-white porch. She raised her hand to knock on the bright turquoise door, but it flew open before she could. A man stood there in a neatly pressed dark gray suit. His red hair was combed flat and he wore a serious expression on his face.
“Yes?” Hatter asked. Even his voice was different—flatter and lower.
“Hatter? It's me... Alice!” she said. She stepped forward to hug him, but he shied away, peering behind her anxiously.
“I'm not taking on any new heads now,” Hatter said quickly. “Good day.”
Ducking backward, he slammed the door in Alice's face. She stared at its wooden planks for a moment, then firmly pushed it open and marched inside.
The Hatter himself had settled in behind a large desk and had his head buried in an accounting ledger, a quill pen in his hand poised over the page. Startled by her entrance, he looked up, eyes wide.
“Hatter, it's me! Alice! Alice!” she exclaimed.
“Miss, please.” Hatter set down his pen and raised his hands. “If you want a hat—”
“I don't want a hat,” Alice said. “I've come to see you. I want to talk to you!”
“Well, if you don't want a hat, I'm quite certain I can't help you!” Hatter said matter-of-factly.
“But you can help! I'm sure you can.” Alice leaned across the desk, searching his face for some spark of recognition. “I just need you to be you again! Everyone does.”
Hatter just stood up and turned away. Muttering to himself, he moved through an open doorway to a back room. Disappointed but undeterred, Alice followed him.
In the back parlor, Hatter paused beneath a giant family portrait. The men and women were posed around a tall black top hat that rested on a white stone pillar. Hatter himself stood at one edge of the group. The man closest to him looked stern and was leaning slightly away from Hatter, as though Hatter didn't quite belong with them. All the relatives wore serious expressions except for Hatter and the young baby.
“Was that...” Alice began softly.
“My family,” Hatter said proudly. “Lost for many years, but now they're coming home! Look, I've made hats for each of them!”
Turning with a flourish, he gestured to a row of beautifully crafted hats. “My father, Zanik; my mother, Tyva; Uncle Poomally; Aunt Bumalig; Cousins Pimlick, Paloo, and baby Bim.”
“But... how do you know they're alive?” Alice asked.
Hatter leaned toward her, studying her face. “Can you keep a secret?” he whispered.
“No,” Alice said honestly.
“Good!” Hatter spun around and dug in a drawer. “I found this,” he cried, producing a tiny blue paper hat. “Proof! A sign! A message!” He paused, then continued with conviction. “They're alive!”
Alice frowned in dismay： how on earth could a crumpled paper hat prove his family had survived? “But if they're alive,” she said, trying to reason with him, “where are they?”
“That's the trouble, isn't it?” Hatter grumbled, his hands waving in the air. “High and low. I've searched both. Nowhere. Naught. Nothing. I don't understand why they haven't come and found me.” His shoulders slumped as he sank onto a chair.
“I don't understand.” Reaching forward, Alice touched his back gently. “You yourself told me your family died. Long ag—” She broke off as Hatter stood abruptly.
“I don't know who you are or what you're trying to do”—Hatter's voice rose in agitation —“but my family is not gallsackering dead!”
“Hatter, please,” Alice said.
“Get out!” Hatter bellowed. The force of his words caught him off guard and he stumbled back. Alice started forward to help support him, but he shook his head and waved her away. Breathing heavily, he turned and leaned against a table.
Not sure what she could possibly say to fix things, Alice retreated. After one final glance at the Hatter's trembling frame, she ducked through the front room and out into the sunlight.