Come in.' Curdie stepped forward at once.

He was indeed, for the very crumb of a moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw that would be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he could not offer her.

So he stepped straight in--I will not say without a little tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath his foot.

But that which had need of the floor found it, and his foot was satisfied.
No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in the sky was the princess's spinning wheel, near the other end of the room, turning very fast.

He could see no sky or stars any more, but the wheel was flashing out blue--oh, such lovely sky-blue light!--and behind it of course sat the princess, but whether an old woman as thin as a skeleton leaf, or a glorious lady as young as perfection, he could not tell for the turning and flashing of the wheel.
'Listen to the wheel,' said the voice which had already grown dear to Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not as a jewel, for no jewel could compare with it in preciousness.
And Curdie listened and listened.
'What is it saying ?' asked the voice.
'It is singing,' answered Curdie.
'What is it singing ?' Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner had he got hold of something than it vanished again.
Yet he listened, and listened, entranced with delight.
'Thank you, Curdie, said the voice.
'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'I did try hard for a while, but I could not make anything of it.' 'Oh yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell you again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have just told me without knowing it ?' 'Please, ma'am.' Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to her song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an Aeolian harp blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth.