"I am thinking hard," answered Curdie. "The good food? Let me see--let me see!--Such servants as I saw below are sure to have the best of everything for themselves: I will go and see what I can find on their supper-table." "The chancellor sleeps in the house, and he and the master of the king's horse always have their supper together in a room off the great hall, to the right as you go down the stair," said Irene. "I would go with you, but I dare not leave my father. Alas! he scarcely ever takes more than a mouthful. I can't think how he lives! And the very thing he would like, and often asks for--a bit of bread--I can hardly ever get for him: Dr. Kelman has forbidden it, and says it is nothing less than poison to him." "Bread at least he _shall_ have," said Curdie; "and that, with the honest wine, will do as well as anything, I do believe. I will go at once and look for some. But I want you to see Lina first, and know her, lest, coming upon her by accident at any time, you should be frightened." "I should like much to see her," said the princess. Warning her not to be startled by her ugliness, he went to the door and called her. She entered, creeping with downcast head, and dragging her tail over the floor behind her. Curdie watched the princess as the frightful creature came nearer and nearer. One shudder went from head to foot of her, and next instant she stepped to meet her. Lina dropped flat on the floor, and covered her face with her two big paws. It went to the heart of the princess: in a moment she was on her knees beside her, stroking her ugly head, and patting her all over. "Good dog! Dear ugly dog!" she said. Lina whimpered. "I believe," said Curdie, "from what your grandmother told me, that Lina is a woman, and that she was naughty, but is now growing good." Lina had lifted her head while Irene was caressing her; now she dropped it again between her paws; but the princess took it in her hands, and kissed the forehead betwixt the gold-green eyes. "Shall I take her with me or leave her?" asked Curdie. "Leave her, poor dear," said Irene, and Curdie, knowing the way now, went without her. He took his way first to the room the princess had spoken of, and there also were the remains of supper; but neither there nor in the kitchen could he find a scrap of plain wholesome-looking bread. So he returned and told her that as soon as it was light he would go into the city for some, and asked her for a handkerchief to tie it in. If he could not bring it himself, he would send it by Lina, who could keep out of sight better than he, and as soon as all was quiet at night he would come to her again. He also asked her to tell the king that he was in the house. His hope lay in the fact that bakers everywhere go to work early. But it was yet much too early. So he persuaded the princess to lie down, promising to call her if the king should stir. CHAPTER XXI. THE LOAF.