That would be mockery.

There is no hand within yours but the hand of a true woman, my mother.' 'I should like you just to take hold of my hand though,' said his mother.

'You are my son, and may know all the bad there is in me.' Then at once Curdie took her hand in his.

And when he had it, he kept it, stroking it gently with his other hand.
'Mother,' he said at length, 'your hand feels just like that of the princess.' 'What! My horny, cracked, rheumatic old hand, with its big joints, and its short nails all worn down to the quick with hard work--like the hand of the beautiful princess! Why, my child, you will make me fancy your fingers have grown very dull indeed, instead of sharp and delicate, if you talk such nonsense.

Mine is such an ugly hand I should be ashamed to show it to any but one that loved me.