'I want to talk to you,' said Irene to the little miner; 'but it's
so awkward! I don't know your name.'

'My name's Curdie, little princess.'

'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.'