'Yes, Curdie; you may call me that if you like. What it means is
true.'

'And now I see you dark, and clothed in green, and the mother of
all the light that dwells in the stones of the earth! And up there
they call you Old Mother Wotherwop! And the Princess Irene told me
you were her great-great-grandmother! And you spin the spider
threads, and take care of a whole people of pigeons; and you are
worn to a pale shadow with old age; and are as young as anybody can
be, not to be too young; and as strong, I do believe, as I am.'

The lady stooped toward a large green stone bedded in the rock of
the floor, and looking like a well of grassy light in it. She laid
hold of it with her fingers, broke it out, and gave it to Peter.
'There!' cried Curdie. 'I told you so. Twenty men could not have
done that. And your fingers are white and smooth as any lady's in
the land. I don't know what to make of it.'

'I could give you twenty names more to call me, Curdie, and not one
of them would be a false one. What does it matter how many names
if the person is one?'

'Ah! But it is not names only, ma'am. Look at what you were like
last night, and what I see you now!'

'Shapes are only dresses, Curdie, and dresses are only names. That
which is inside is the same all the time.'

'But then how can all the shapes speak the truth?'