The Princess and the Goblin

by George MacDonald

‘It was very kind of you to give me your name – and such a pretty one,’ said the princess. ‘Oh, not so very kind!’ said the old lady. ‘A name is one of those things one can give away and keep all the same. I have a good many such things.

Not to be believed does not at all agree with princesses: for a real princess cannot tell a lie. So all the afternoon she did not speak a word. Only when the nurse spoke to her, she answered her, for a real princess is never rude – even when she does well to be offended.

It was foolish indeed – thus to run farther and farther from all who could help her, as if she had been seeking a fit spot for the goblin creature to eat her in his leisure; but that is the way fear serves us: it always sides with the thing we are afraid of.

It is when people do wrong things wilfully that they are the more likely to do them again.

But you must understand that no one ever gives anything to another properly and really without keeping it.

‘That’s all nonsense,’ said Curdie. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ ‘Then if you don’t know what I mean, what right have you to call it nonsense?’ asked the princess, a little offended.

‘People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less.

Seeing is not believing – it is only seeing.

But in the meantime you must be content, I say, to be misunderstood for a while. We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary.’ ‘What is that, grandmother?’ ‘To understand other people.’

There is something you cannot explain, and her explanation may be the right one.’ ‘It’s no explanation at all, mother; and I can’t believe it.’ ‘That may be only because you do not understand it. If you did, you would probably find it was an explanation, and believe it thoroughly.

‘Yes; but they think so much of themselves!’ said his mother. ‘Small creatures always do. The bantam is the proudest cock in my little yard.’

So you see there is some ground for supposing that Curdie was not a miner only, but a prince as well. Many such instances have been known in the world’s history.

‘I never had such fun!’ said the princess, her eyes twinkling and her pretty teeth shining. ‘How nice it must be to live in a cottage on the mountain!’ ‘It all depends on what kind your inside house is,’ said the mother. ‘I know what you mean,’ said Irene. ‘That’s the kind of thing my grandmother says.’