Mr. Ferret was busy in the kitchen when Alice returned home. She slipped inside without a sound and snuck up behind him as he was preparing a snack of marinated field mice. The sight of the little tails coiled about their still bodies always made Alice gag, but Mr. Ferret ate them with such relish. Snaking her arms around him, she dropped her smol purse onto his plate. With a start, he whipped around, his nose quivering in surprise.

"Alice! You were out?" he asked.

"I snuck out this afternoon," Alice replied, sinking down into one of the chairs by the kitchen table.

"I thought you were napping?"

Alice smirked. "Mr. Ferret, I rarely ever nap. I thought you knew that by now."

"I should have known you were up to something. Where exactly were you?"

Alice threw her feet up on the table, crossing them as she leaned back in the chair, tilting it nonchalantly. "The Queen's tea party."

Mr. Ferret's tail fluffed up, and he became noticeably twitchy. "The Queen's tea party? You broke into the Queen's tea party?"

"It was simple, really. I just shrunk myself down with some Cake and snuck in through the gates. I was dressed appropriately, so no one questioned my presence."

He eyed the blue gown that seemed even more voluminous in the small, underground kitchen. "I should have known that dress would lead to no good. Blue is a very unlucky color!"

"Since when?"

"Since right now!" He was quivering and wringing his paws. "Oh, no, no, this is no good."

The chair Alice was lounging in came down on its legs with a loud thud, and she approached Mr. Ferret's half finished snack. Grasping her purse, she tried to get her guardian's attention.

"But Mr. Ferret, look at the goods I managed to snag!"

With that, she poured the contents of her purse onto the floor. Candlesticks, platters, silverware, rings, pocket watches, and far more goods than could conceivably fit in her little bag crashed onto the floor. Despite Mr. Ferret's fretting and trembling, his eyes widened when he took in the haul Alice had brought home. His nose sniffed at the sweet smell of silver and gold. Whiskers quivering with excitement, he couldn't seem to stop himself from taking a candlestick in his claws, cradling it as one would an infant.

"My, these are fine little trinkets, aren't they?" he cooed.

"They're more than trinkets. These are genuine castle goods. Imagine what they're worth!"

"So shiny. So pretty..."

Mr. Ferret no longer seemed to remember his concern over Alice's trespassing onto the castle grounds. He was running his clawed fingers along the decorated base of the candlestick, admiring his distorted reflection. Alice was well aware that Mr. Ferret did not care about how expensive an item was; he simply loved to collect, as was obvious by the state of his house. Every nook and cranny was crammed with some sort of stolen goods, from sewing needles to jewel encrusted monocles. Some of his greatest treasures were nothing more than trash. But if it caught his eye, he considered it precious.

Despite having been raised by him, Alice had not embraced his particular taste in stolen wares. For her, it wasn't necessarily the worth of the object but rather the difficulty or even the impossibility in acquiring it. 'The harder to have the better to hold' was her motto.

Her fingers danced as she refrained from pulling the tart from her sash. With some shame, she was not willing to share that prize with her beloved caretaker. And, considering his adverse reaction to her even sneaking into the tea party in the first place, she was certain his entire body would bristle knowing she had stolen the Queen's own baked goods.

"Would you like me to finish preparing your mice?" Alice asked, turning to the plate with a grimace.

Mr. Ferret tore his eyes away from the candlestick. "Oh, the mice, of course. No, no, my dear, I can certainly finish them myself," he said as he approached, the silver still clutched in one claw.

Alice returned to her pile of goods and began moving it to the kitchen table where she and Mr. Ferret could better organize it. Some of it could likely be sold for a pretty penny, but they would have to be very discreet about it. If anyone suspected the goods had come from the Castle, both of their heads would be in danger.

Mr. Ferret joined Alice, still holding the candlestick in addition to the plate of mice. While Alice picked through her treasures, he began to munch on his snack. Alice tried to avoid looking at him as he did so, but every so often she could hear him slurping up a tail, and her curiosity moved her to steal a peek, regretting it every time. She dearly loved Mr. Ferret, but his eating habits and table manners left much to be desired, especially considering the food he enjoyed. Mice were the worst of it, Alice felt, but she wasn't too fond of watching him rip the scanty meat off of frog legs either. At least they shared a love for dodo, although Alice insisted on cooking it herself, as Mr. Ferret had a tendency to bake the entire bird, feathers, feet, and all. How grateful she had been when she was finally old enough to reach the stove so that she could take over her own meals.

"My dearest Alice, while I am very impressed with this latest caper," Mr. Ferret said, his eyes roving over the collection of gold and silver, "I must beg of you to choose your prey more wisely. Had the Queen caught you stealing from her, that pretty head of yours would be sitting on a pike!"

Alice waved away his concerns. "I didn't even see the Queen there. Besides, I was taught by the very best thief in all of Hearts."

"I'm beginning to think my student has surpassed me in skill. Look at these beautiful, lovely—ouch!"

Mr. Ferret drew his paw back from the pile. A tiny nose emerged from the trinkets, followed by a spiny little body.

"Ooh, I've never seen a hedgehog so small," Mr. Ferret said, licking his lips. "What a fine, bite-sized snack."

He reached for the creature once more, but Alice quickly scooped it up. "No! He's not for eating!"

Mr. Ferret reluctantly withdrew his claws. "What else would a hedgehog be for?"

"At the tea party they used them as balls to play croquet."

"Are you planning on taking up the sport?"

"No. But I thought I might keep him as a...pet."

"A pet? Why would you need a pet?"

Alice scratched the tiny hedgehog's chin. "I don't know. I think he's cute. And he helped me greatly in pulling off my escapade."

"How so?"

"I fed him Growing Cake as a distraction."

Mr. Ferret cocked his head, whiskers twitching. "Growing Cake? My dear, I think it may have been defective."

"No, no, he grew all right, but then the guards came and were about to do away with him, so I threw him some Shrinking Cake. I may have given him a bit too much."

"So it seems."

"But I like him this way. He's perfectly pocket-sized. And you know how much I love pockets."

The little hedgehog was running circles in her palm, bringing a smile to her face.

"I still think he'd make a better snack than pet," Mr. Ferret grumbled as he popped another mouse into his mouth, chewing it up with his mouth wide open.

"I think I shall name him Tart," Alice said, ignoring Mr. Ferret's complaints and ghastly manners.

"Tart? He hardly looks like a tart."

"Yes, but he hel—" Alice stopped herself before she gave away her secret. "He helped himself to many tarts when he was as large as a griffin. And you know what they say: You are what you eat."

"Have you been conversing with the Duchess again?"

Alice wrinkled her nose. "Sweet Hearts, no. Her ridiculous prattling is so tedious I can't even feign interest in order to lift one of her rings. And I always end up in such a sneezing fit when I get too close. It's like she bathes in pepper." Her nose was already itching just speaking of it. "It's very difficult to stealthily rob someone in such a state."

Mr. Ferret chuckled. "You've done well, Alice. But please, please, next time choose a less dangerous mission."

Rolling her eyes, Alice tucked Tart into her coin purse. "Yes, yes, I will. Now, if you'll excuse me," she feigned a yawn, "I'm awfully tired from my adventure today. I think I'll go take a nap."

Her guardian's attention had been stolen by a silver teaspoon, so he neither heard her nor recalled her earlier comment about never taking naps. With a smirk, Alice slipped up the winding stairs to her room.

Mr. Ferret's home was situated beneath a large oak tree. Everything was underground: the kitchen, the den, Mr. Ferret's room, the loo. But when Alice came into his life, Mr. Ferret decided to add on to his humble abode. Rather than continuing to dig down, though, he acquiesced Alice's request to have her room placed up above in the trunk of the tree. While living underground was technically safer for a family of thieves, Alice felt shut away. Worried she would miss even a minute of the exciting world around her, she insisted on having a room filled with windows, which remained open through morning and night, summer and winter. Wonderland was full of possibilities and extraordinary happenings. To miss any of it would be a crime, one even a thief like Alice was unwilling to commit.

As she closed her door softly so as not to alert Mr. Ferret to her departure, she quickly pulled the strawberry tart from her sash. The edges had crumbled slightly, but it was still the most beautiful pastry she had ever laid eyes on. What a treasure! One of the Queen's own creations!

It was said that the Queen was a magnificent baker, having dabbled in it since she was a girl. But after wooing the King with delectables and sweets and being crowned his wife, she never touched a whisk again. In fact, she refused to even partake of the lovely desserts made by the royal cooks. It was as if she found them offensive and repulsive.

Alice was herself fonder of cakes, but her mouth began to water as she gazed upon the perfect pastry in her hands. The strawberry filling glistened in the light that filtered through her windows, and as a quiet breeze drifted inside, the sugary scent wafted up to her nose. Her sweet tooth begged her to indulge it, and her curiosity was whetted.

Certainly a tiny little taste would not take away the value of her cherished prize?

Her fingers twitched, still not quite convinced that she should mar such magnificence. Then her stomach growled, reminding her that not only had she skipped breakfast that morning, but she also had failed to sample any of the delicious dishes at the tea party. The meager bites of Shrinking and Growing Cakes could hardly count as sustenance.

So with great care, she broke off a small bit of tart and popped it into her mouth. A moan of ecstasy escaped her lips as the flaky crust and the smidge of sweet, strawberry filling melted on her tongue. Never had she tasted anything so exquisite.

Her euphoria was short-lived, though. Hardly seconds after she swallowed that first bite and contemplated whether she could spare one more little piece, her body began to tremble. With a gasp, she realized what was happening. It was too late to do anything about it, though. Dropping the tart, she began to grow. Up and up and up. Her head hit the ceiling, but unfortunately, that did not stop her. Covering herself in an effort to keep from being knocked unconscious, she burst through the trunk. Branches scratched at her arms, and birds cried out in terror, fleeing their nests to escape the destruction of the large oak tree. When at last her growth spurt seemed to have stopped, she dared to open her eyes. Glancing about, she found herself towering over the entire Forest.

"Oh, pins and bobbins," she muttered. "I'll never fit inside my room now."