But he'll believe now.' 'I don't know that,' replied her grandmother.
'Won't you, Curdie ?' said Irene, looking round at him as she asked the question.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, staring, and looking strangely bewildered.

This she thought came of his astonishment at the beauty of the lady.
'Make a bow to my grandmother, Curdie,' she said.
'I don't see any grandmother,' answered Curdie rather gruffly.
'Don't see 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.