“Tickets, please!” said the Guard, putting his head in at the window.
In a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the
same size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.

“Now then! Show your ticket, child!” the Guard went on, looking angrily
at Alice. And a great many voices all said together (“like the chorus
of a song,” thought Alice), “Don’t keep him waiting, child! Why, his
time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!”

“I’m afraid I haven’t got one,” Alice said in a frightened tone: “there
wasn’t a ticket-office where I came from.” And again the chorus of
voices went on. “There wasn’t room for one where she came from. The
land there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!”

“Don’t make excuses,” said the Guard: “you should have bought one from
the engine-driver.” And once more the chorus of voices went on with
“The man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a
thousand pounds a puff!”

Alice thought to herself, “Then there’s no use in speaking.” The voices
didn’t join in this time, as she hadn’t spoken, but to her great
surprise, they all _thought_ in chorus (I hope you understand what
_thinking in chorus_ means—for I must confess that _I_ don’t), “Better
say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!”

“I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!”
thought Alice.

Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, Chapter 3 - Looking-Glass Insects