“Hangeth from what， my lord？” asked the Witch； and hen， while they were all still thinking how to answer her， he added， with another of her soft， silver laughs： “You see？ hen you try to think out clearly what this sun must be， ou cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. our sun is a dream； and there is nothing in that dream that as not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing；he sun is but a tale， a children’s story.”
“Yes， I see now，” said Jill in a heavy， hopeless tone. “It ust be so.” And while she said this， it seemed to her to be ery good sense.
Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated， “There is no sun.” nd they all said nothing. She repeated， in a softer and eeper voice. “There is no sun.” After a pause， and after a ruggle in their minds， all four of them said together. “You re right. There is no sun.” It was such a relief to give in and ay it.
“There never was a sun，” said the Witch.
“No. There never was a sun，” said the Prince， and the arsh.wiggle， and the children.