'What a funny name! Curdie! What more?' 'Curdie Peterson. What's your name, please?' 'Irene.' 'What more?' 'I don't know what more. What more is my name, Lootie?' 'Princesses haven't got more than one name. They don't want it.' 'Oh, then, Curdie, you must call me just Irene and no more.' 'No, indeed,' said the nurse indignantly. 'He shall do no such thing.' 'What shall he call me, then, Lootie?' 'Your Royal Highness.' 'My Royal Highness! What's that? No, no, Lootie. I won't be called names. I don't like them. You told me once yourself it's only rude children that call names; and I'm sure Curdie wouldn't be rude. Curdie, my name's Irene.' 'Well, Irene,' said Curdie, with a glance at the nurse which showed he enjoyed teasing her; 'it is very kind of you to let me call you anything. I like your name very much.' He expected the nurse to interfere again; but he soon saw that she was too frightened to speak. She was staring at something a few yards before them in the middle of the path, where it narrowed between rocks so that only one could pass at a time. 'It is very much kinder of you to go out of your way to take us home,' said Irene. 'I'm not going out of my way yet,' said Curdie. 'It's on the other side of those rocks the path turns off to my father's.' 'You wouldn't think of leaving us till we're safe home, I'm sure,' gasped the nurse. 'Of course not,' said Curdie. 'You dear, good, kind Curdie! I'll give you a kiss when we get home,' said the princess. The nurse gave her a great pull by the hand she held. But at that instant the something in the middle of the way, which had looked like a great lump of earth brought down by the rain, began to move. One after another it shot out four long things, like two arms and two legs, but it was now too dark to tell what they were. The nurse began to tremble from head to foot. Irene clasped Curdie's hand yet faster, and Curdie began to sing again: 'One, two-- Hit and hew! Three, four-- Blast and bore! Five, six-- There's a fix! Seven, eight-- Hold it straight! Nine, ten-- Hit again! Hurry! scurry! Bother! smother! There's a toad In the road! Smash it! Squash it! Fry it! Dry it! You're another! Up and off! There's enough!-- Huuuuuh!' As he uttered the last words, Curdie let go his hold of his companion, and rushed at the thing in the road as if he would trample it under his feet. It gave a great spring, and ran straight up one of the rocks like a huge spider. Curdie turned back laughing, and took Irene's hand again. She grasped his very tight, but said nothing till they had passed the rocks. A few yards more and she found herself on a part of the road she knew, and was able to speak again. 'Do you know, Curdie, I don't quite like your song: it sounds to me rather rude,' she said. 'Well, perhaps it is,' answered Curdie. 'I never thought of that; it's a way we have. We do it because they don't like it.' 'Who don't like it?'