It certainly was a very large Gnat: `about the size of a chicken,' Alice thought. Still, she couldn't feel nervous with it, after they had been talking together so long.
`--then you don't like all insects?' the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothing had happened.
`I like them when they can talk,' Alice said. `None of them ever talk, where I come from.'
`What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where you come from?' the Gnat inquired.
`I don't rejoice in insects at all,' Alice explained, `because I'm rather afraid of them--at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them.'
`Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly.
`I never knew them do it.'
`What's the use of their having names,' the Gnat said, `if they wo'n't answer to them?'
`No use to them,' said Alice; `but it's useful to the people that name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?'
`I ca'n't say,' the Gnat replied. `Further on, in the wood down there, they've got no names--however, go on with your list of insects: you're wasting time.'
`Well, there's the Horse-fly,' Alice began, counting off the names on her fingers.
`All right,' said the Gnat. `Half way up that bush, you'll see a Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets about by swinging itself from branch to branch.'
`What does it live on?' Alice asked, with great curiosity.
`Sap and sawdust,' said the Gnat. `Go on with the list.'
Alice looked at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; and then she went on.
`And there's the Dragon-fly.'
`Look on the branch above your head,' said the Gnat, `and there you'll find a Snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.'
`And what does it live on?' Alice asked, as before.
`Frumenty and mince-pie,' the Gnat replied; `and it makes its nest in a Christmas-box.'
`And then there's the Butterfly,' Alice went on, after she had taken a good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to herself, `I wonder if that's the reason insects are so fond of flying into candles-- because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!'
`Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), `you may observe a Bread- and-butter-fly. Its wings are thin slices of bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.'
`And what does it live on?'
`Weak tea with cream in it.'