[Alice asks the White Rabbit her final question about the relationship between stories and classical music. If you missed Part 3, you can find it here.]
I just have one more question, Rabbit Dear.
What is it?
I understand that a tapestry can become a table, and a table a tapestry, but why should I bother with them when you are so much smarter than I and so know the tapestry’s benefits as a tablecloth much more than I? (It is true that the White Rabbit was never averse to a bit of flattery, but here I simply said what I thought.)
Why my dear, even if I am a bit better at the table-tablecloth conundrum (he did look a bit smug, though perhaps that was simply a result of using the word “conundrum”), seeing the tablecloth on top of the table is a valuable skill!
Why?
Because tables are notoriously persnickety! One never knows where they’ve been and where they’re going.[1]
(I had always suspected this very thing of tables, and now here was the White Rabbit who felt the same way!) Oh absolutely!
While tablecloths are solid, reasonable creatures. You can more easily keep track of their whereabouts.
That is true…
Then if you can’t remember where your table has been, but you can remember where your tablecloth has been, and if your tablecloth is on top of your table, then you know where your table has been!
Bravo! (I was quite awake now!)
After all, if you don’t know if the cow has jumped over the moon or not, how can you possibly know whether the dog will laugh now, later, or has already laughed?
I prefer to think that the dog will laugh later on…
Well, that is something you and the music must agree on…wait, where are you going?
(From afar) …To visit Music…I want to find out when the dog laughs!
[1] Here, the White Rabbit equates tables with abstract thought and tablecloths with concrete thought.
If Mermaids Wore Suspenders 