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s，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
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