“That’s all nonsense,” said Curdie. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then if you don’t know what I mean, what right have you to call it nonsense?” asked the princess, a little offended.
“I beg your pardon, Irene,” said Curdie; “I did not mean to vex you.”
“Of course not,” returned the princess. “But why do you think we shall be safe?”
“Because the king and queen are far too stout to get through that hole.”
“There might be ways round,” said the princess.
“To be sure there might: we are not out of it yet,” acknowledged Curdie.
“But what do you mean by the king and queen?” asked the princess. “I should never call such creatures as those a king and a queen.”
“Their own people do, though,” answered Curdie.
The princess asked more questions, and Curdie, as they walked leisurely along, gave her a full account, not only of the character and habits of the goblins, so far as he knew them, but of his own adventures with them, beginning from the very night after that in which he had met her and Lootie upon the mountain. When he had finished, he begged Irene to tell him how it was that she had come to his rescue. So Irene too had to tell a long story, which she did in rather a roundabout manner, interrupted by many questions concerning things she had not explained. But her tale, as he did not believe more than half of it, left everything as unaccountable to him as before, and he was nearly as much perplexed as to what he must think of the princess. He could not believe that she was deliberately telling stories, and the only conclusion he could come to was