“This is the Boy，” said Aslan， looking， not at Digory， but at his councillors. “This is the Boy who did it.”
“Oh dear，” thought Digory， “what have I done now？”
“Son of Adam，” said the Lion. “There is an evil Witch abroad in my new land of Narnia. Tell these good Beasts how she came here.”
A dozen different things that he might say flashed through Digory’s mind， but he had the sense to say nothing except the exact truth.
“I brought her， Aslan，” he answered in a low voice. “For what purpose？”
“I wanted to get her out of my own world back into her own. I thought I was taking her back to her own place.”
“How came she to be in your world， Son of Adam？” “By.by Magic.”
The Lion said nothing and Digory knew that he had not told enough.
“It was my Uncle， Aslan，” he said. “He sent us out of our own world by magic rings， at least I had to go because he sent Polly first， and then we met the Witch in a place called Charn and she just held on to us when.”
“You met the Witch？” said Asian in a low voice which had the threat
of a growl in it.
“She woke up，” said Digory wretchedly. And then， turning very white， “I mean， I woke her. Because I wanted to know what would happen if I struck a bell. Polly didn‘t want to. It wasn’t her fault. I.I fought her. I know I shouldn‘t have. I think I was a bit enchanted by the writing under the bell.”
“Do you？” asked Asian； still speaking very low and deep. “No，” said Digory. “I see now I wasn’t. I was only pretending.”
There was a long pause. And Digory was thinking all the time， “I‘ve spoiled everything. There’s no chance of getting anything for Mother now.”
When the Lion spoke again， it was not to Digory.
“You see， friends，” he said， “that before the new， clean world I gave you is seven hours old， a force of evil has already entered it； waked and brought hither by this son of Adam.” The Beasts， even Strawberry， all turned their eyes on Digory till he felt that he wished the ground would swallow him up. “But do not be cast down，” said Aslan， still speaking to the Beasts. “Evil will come of that evil， but it is still a long way off， and I will see to it that the worst falls upon myself. In the meantime， let us take such order that for many hundred years yet this shall be a merry land in a merry world. And as Adam‘s race has done the harm， Adam’s race shall help to heal it. Draw near， you other two.”
The last words were spoken to Polly and the Cabby who had now arrived. Polly， all eyes and mouth， was staring at Aslan and holding the Cabby‘s hand rather tightly. The Cabby gave one glance at the Lion， and took off his bowler hat： no one had yet seen him without it. When it was off， he looked younger and nicer， and more like a countryman and less like a London cabman.
“Son，” said Aslan to the Cabby. “I have known you long. Do you know me？”
“Well， no， sir，” said the Cabby. “Leastways， not in an ordinary manner of speaking. Yet I feel somehow， if I may make so free， as ’ow we‘ve met before.”
“It is well，” said the Lion. “You know better than you think you know， and you shall live to know me better yet. How does this land please you？”
“It’s a fair treat， sir，” said the Cabby. “Would you like to live here always？”
“Well， you see， sir， I‘m a married man，” said the Cabby. “If my wife was here neither of us would ever want to go back to London， I reckon. We’re both country folks really.”
Aslan threw up his shaggy head， opened his mouth， and uttered a long， single note； not very loud， but full of power. Polly‘s heart jumped in her body when she heard it. She felt sure that it was a call， and that anyone who heard that call would want to obey it and （what’s more） would be able to obey it， however many worlds and ages lay between. And so， though she was filled with wonder， she was not really astonished or shocked when all of a sudden a young woman， with a kind， honest face stepped out of nowhere and stood beside her. Polly knew at once that it was the Cabby‘s wife， fetched out of our world not by any tiresome magic rings， but quickly， simply and sweetly as a bird flies to its nest. The young woman had apparently been in the middle of a washing day， for she wore an apron， her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow， and there were soapsuds on her hands. If she had had time to put on her good clothes （her best hat had imitation cherries on it） she would have looked dreadful； as it was， she looked rather nice.
Of course she thought she was dreaming. That was why she didn’t rush across to her husband and ask him what on earth had happened to them both. But when she looked at the Lion she didn‘t feel quite so sure it was a dream， yet for some reason she did not appear to be very frightened. Then she dropped a little half curtsey， as some country girls still knew how to do in those days. After that， she went and put her hand in the Cabby’s and stood there looking round her a little shyly.
“My children，” said Aslan， fixing his eyes on both of them， “you are to be the first King and Queen of Narnia.”
The Cabby opened his mouth in astonishment， and his wife turned very red.
“You shall rule and name all these creatures， and do justice among them， and protect them from their enemies when enemies arise. And enemies will arise， for there is an evil Witch in this world.”
The Cabby swallowed hard two or three times and cleared his throat.
“Begging your pardon， sir，” he said， “and thanking you very much I‘m sure （which my Missus does the same） but I ain’t no sort of a chap for a job like that. I never ‘ad much eddycation， you see.”
“Well，” said Aslan， “can you use a spade and a plough and raise food out of the earth？”
“Yes， sir， I could do a bit of that sort of work： being brought up to it， like.”
“Can you rule these creatures kindly and fairly， remembering that they are not slaves like the dumb beasts of the world you were born in， but Talking Beasts and free subjects？”
“I see that， sir，” replied the Cabby. “I’d try to do the square thing by them all.”
“And would you bring up your children and grandchildren to do the same？”
“It‘d be up to me to try， sir. I’d do my best： wouldn‘t we， Nellie？” “And you wouldn’t have favourites either among your own children
or among the other creatures， or let any hold another under or use it hardly？”
“I never could abide such goings on， sir， and that‘s the truth. I’d give ‘em what for if I caught ’em at it，” said the Cabby. （All through this conversation his voice was growing slower and richer. More like the country voice he must have had as a boy and less like the sharp， quick voice of a cockney.）
