“What is this sun that you all speak of ？ Do you mean anything by the word ？”

“Yes，we jolly well do,”said Scrubb.

“Can you tell me what it’s like ？”asked the Witch（thrum， thrum，thrum，went the strings）.

“Please it your Grace,”said the Prince，very coldly and politely. “You see that lamp. It is round and yellow and gives light to the whole room；and hangeth moreover from the roof. Now that thing which we call the sun is like the lamp，only far greater and brighter. It giveth light to the whole Overworld and hangeth in the sky.”

“Hangeth from what，my lord ？”asked the Witch；and then，while they were all still thinking how to answer her，she added， with another of her soft，silver laughs：“You see ？ When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be，you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream；and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing；the sun is but a tale，a children’s story.”

“Yes，I see now,”said Jill in a heavy，hopeless tone. “It must be so.”And while she said this，it seemed to her to be very good sense.

Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated，“There is no sun.”And they all said nothing. She repeated，in a softer and deeper voice. “There is no sun.”After a pause，and after a struggle in their minds，all four of them said together. “You are right. There is no sun.”It was such a relief to give in and say it.

“There never was a sun,”said the Witch.

“No. There never was a sun,”said the Prince，and the Marsh-wiggle，and the children.

For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last，with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her，she said：

“There’s Aslan.”

“Aslan ？”said the Witch，quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. “What a pretty name ！ What does it mean ？”

“He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world,”said Scrubb，“and sent us into this to find Prince Rilian.”

“What is a lion ？”asked the Witch.

“Oh，hang it all ！”said Scrubb. “Don’t you know ？ How can we describe it to her ？ Have you ever seen a cat ？”

“Surely,”said the Queen. “I love cats.”

“Well，a lion is a little bit—only a little bit，mind you—like a huge cat—with a mane. At least，it’s not like a horse’s mane， you know，it’s more like a judge’s wig. And it’s yellow. And terrifically strong.”

The Witch shook her head. “I see,”she said，“that we should do no better with your lion，as you call it，than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps，and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You’ve seen cats，and now you want a bigger and better cat，and it’s to be called a lion. Well，’tis a pretty make-believe，though，to say truth，it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world，this world of mine，which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you，my lord Prince，that art a man full grown，fie upon you ！ Are you not ashamed of such toys ？ Come，all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia，no Overworld，no sky，no sun，no Aslan. And now，to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But，first，to bed；to sleep；deep sleep， soft pillows，sleep without foolish dreams.”

The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down，their cheeks flushed，their eyes half closed；the strength all gone from them；the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum，desperately gathering all his strength，walked over to the fire. Then he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human；for his feet（which were bare）were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck’s. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough；and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire，grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once.

First，the sweet，heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out，a good bit of it had， and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle， which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone’s brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes.

Secondly，the Witch，in a loud，terrible voice，utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now， called out，“What are you doing ？ Dare to touch my fire again， mud-filth，and I’ll turn the blood to fire inside your veins.”

Thirdly，the pain itself made Puddleglum’s head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.

“One word，Ma’am,”he said，coming back from the fire； limping，because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right，I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said，even so. Suppose we have only dreamed，or made up， all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that，in that case，the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well，it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing，when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game，if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So，thanking you kindly for our supper，if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready，we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long，I should think；but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

“Oh，hurrah ！ Good old Puddleglum ！”cried Scrubb and Jill. But the Prince shouted suddenly，“Ware ！ Look to the Witch.”

When they did look their hair nearly stood on end.

The instrument dropped from her hands. Her arms appeared to be fastened to her sides. Her legs were intertwined with each other，and her feet had disappeared. The long green train of her skirt thickened and grew solid，and seemed to be all one piece with the writhing green pillar of her interlocked legs. And that writhing green pillar was curving and swaying as if it had no joints，or else were all joints. Her head was thrown far back and while her nose grew longer and longer，every other part of her face seemed to disappear，except her eyes. Huge flaming eyes they were now， without brows or lashes. All this takes time to write down；it happened so quickly that there was only just time to see it. Long before there was time to do anything，the change was complete， and the great serpent which the Witch had become，green as poison，thick as Jill’s waist，had flung two or three coils of its loathsome body round the Prince’s legs. Quick as lightning another great loop darted round，intending to pinion his sword-arm to his side. But the Prince was just in time. He raised his arms and got them clear：the living knot closed only round his chest-ready to crack his ribs like firewood when it drew tight.

The Prince caught the creature’s neck in his left hand，trying to squeeze it till it choked. This held its face（if you could call it a face）about five inches from his own. The forked tongue flickered horribly in and out，but could not reach him. With his right hand he drew back his sword for the strongest blow he could give. Meanwhile Scrubb and Puddleglum had drawn their weapons and rushed to his aid. All three blows fell at once：Scrubb’s（which did not even pierce the scales and did no good）on the body of the snake below the Prince’s hand，but the Prince’s own blow and Puddleglum’s both on its neck. Even that did not quite kill it， though it began to loosen its hold on Rilian’s legs and chest. With repeated blows they hacked off its head. The horrible thing went on coiling and moving like a bit of wire long after it had died；and the floor，as you may imagine，was a nasty mess.

The Prince，when he had breath，said，“Gentlemen，I thank you.”Then the three conquerors stood staring at one another and panting，without another word，for a long time. Jill had very wisely sat down and was keeping quiet；she was saying to herself，“I do hope I don’t faint—or blub—or do anything idiotic.”

“My royal mother is avenged,”said Rilian presently. “This is undoubtedly the same worm that I pursued in vain by the fountain in the forest of Narnia，so many years ago. All these years I have been the slave of my mother’s slayer. Yet I am glad，gentlemen， that the foul Witch took to her serpent form at the last. It would not have suited well either with my heart or with my honour to have slain a woman. But look to the lady.”He meant Jill.

“I’m all right，thanks,”said she.

“Damsel,”said the Prince，bowing to her. “You are of a high courage，and therefore，I doubt not，you come of a noble blood in your own world. But come，friends. Here is some wine left. Let us refresh ourselves and each pledge his fellows. After that，to our plans.”

“A jolly good idea，Sir,”said Scrubb.