I recently posted about the Alice books on Votaries.
I'm not one who believes that Lewis Carroll was a pedophile hankering after the eleven-year-old, Alice Liddell (though by Victorian-Ruskin standards, such hankering was somewhat accepted; not that Ruskin is the best role model).
From a literary perspective, the important point here is that no romance exists in the Alice books in the modern sense of "romances." Carroll draws on images of chivalry for various scenes but only as tropes. So there is also little "romance" in the medieval sense either: romance as great deeds carried out by honorable figures who save others.
The White Knight makes an appearance and is quite kindly. But his encounter with the Red Knight is reminiscent of T.H. White's jousters who behave with such a lack of panache or competence, the Wart gets worried for them.
The most "romantic"--in the older sense of the word--event occurs when Alice meets the fawn. There is a quiet pathos to the scene that exists in older tales: Dante provides quiet moments between and Dante and Virgil meeting sinners and saints, monsters and beings of tremendous (if exhausting) majesty.
I'm not entirely opposed to the mundane, precisely because high romance can get so exhausting. But I prefer my romance (both definitions) and my mundane to overlap more.
On Votaries, I talk about how my father liked the books. He had a penchant for shaggy dog stories as well as nonsense and puns. The Alice books fall into that English tradition sooner than they fall into the romance tradition.