Here Curdie’s mother gave the princess a hug, and the princess turned and gave her a sweet smile, and held up her mouth to kiss her.
“Then you didn’t see the cobs?” asked Curdie.
“No; I haven’t been into the mountain, I told you, Curdie.”
“But the cobs have been into your house—all over it—and into your bedroom, making such a row!”
“What did they want there? It was very rude of them.”
“They wanted you—to carry you off into the mountain with them, for a wife to their prince Harelip.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” cried the princess, shuddering.
“But you needn’t be afraid, you know. Your grandmother takes care of you.”
“Ah! you do believe in my grandmother, then? I’m so glad! She made me think you would some day.”
All at once Curdie remembered his dream, and was silent, thinking.
“But how did you come to be in my house, and me not know it?” asked the princess.
Then Curdie had to explain everything—how he had watched for her sake, how he had been wounded and shut up by the soldiers, how he heard the noises and could not rise, and how the beautiful old lady had come to him, and all that followed.
“Poor Curdie! to lie there hurt and ill, and me never to know it!” exclaimed the princess, stroking his rough hand. “I would have come and nursed you, if they had told me.”