my grandmother, when I'm sitting in her lap?' exclaimed the
princess.

'No, I don't,' reiterated Curdie, in an offended tone.

'Don't you see the lovely fire of roses--white ones amongst them this
time?' asked Irene, almost as bewildered as he.

'No, I don't,' answered Curdie, almost sulkily.

'Nor the blue bed? Nor the rose-coloured counterpane?--Nor the
beautiful light, like the moon, hanging from the roof?'

'You're making game of me, Your Royal Highness; and after what we have
come through together this day, I don't think it is kind of you,' said
Curdie, feeling very much hurt.

'Then what do you see?' asked Irene, who perceived at once that for her
not to believe him was at least as bad as for him not to believe her.

'I see a big, bare, garret-room--like the one in mother's cottage, only
big enough to take the cottage itself in, and leave a good margin all
round,' answered Curdie.

'And what more do you see?'

'I see a tub, and a heap of musty straw, and a withered apple, and a
ray of sunlight coming through a hole in the middle of the roof and
shining on your head, and making all the place look a curious dusky
brown. I think you had better drop it, princess, and go down to the
nursery, like a good girl.'

'But don't you hear my grandmother talking to me?' asked Irene, almost
crying.

'No. I hear the cooing of a lot of pigeons. If you won't come down, I
will go without you. I think that will be better anyhow, for I'm sure
nobody who met us would believe a word we said to them. They would
think we made it all up. I don't expect anybody but my own father and
mother to believe me. They know I wouldn't tell a story.'

'And yet you won't believe me, Curdie?' expostulated the princess, now
fairly crying with vexation and sorrow at the gulf between her and
Curdie.

'No. I can't, and I can't help it,' said Curdie, turning to leave the
room.

'What SHALL I do, grandmother?' sobbed the princess, turning her face
round upon the lady's bosom, and shaking with suppressed sobs.

'You must give him time,' said her grandmother; 'and you must be
content not to be believed for a while. It is very hard to bear; but I
have had to bear it, and shall have to bear it many a time yet. I will
take care of what Curdie thinks of you in the end. You must let him go
now.'

'You're not coming, are you?' asked Curdie.

'No, Curdie; my grandmother says I must let you go. Turn to the right
when you get to the bo