I suppose you can read.' 'Oh yes!' Everyone was rather hurt at the question.
'Well, then--all you've got to do is to read the name that's written on the part of the charm that you've got.

And as soon as you say the name out loud the thing will have power to do--well, several things.' There was a silence.

The red charm was passed from hand to hand.
'There's no name on it,' said Cyril at last.
'Nonsense,' said the Psammead; 'what's that ?' 'Oh, THAT!' said Cyril, 'it's not reading.

It looks like pictures of chickens and snakes and things.' This was what was on the charm: [Hieroglyphics omitted.] 'I've no patience with you,' said the Psammead; 'if you can't read you must find some one who can.

A priest now ?' 'We don't know any priests,' said Anthea; 'we know a clergyman--he's called a priest in the prayer-book, you know--but he only knows Greek and Latin and Hebrew, and this isn't any of those--I know.' The Psammead stamped a furry foot angrily.
'I wish I'd never seen you,' it said; 'you aren't any more good than so many stone images.