“I quite agree with you， Madam，” said Uncle Andrew. “A most disagreeable place. Completely uncivilized. If only I were a younger man and had a gun.”
“Garn！” said the Cabby. “You don‘t think you could shoot ’im， do you？”
“And who would？” said Polly.
“Prepare the Magic， old fool，” said Jadis.
“Certainly， Madam，” said Uncle Andrew cunningly. “I must have both the children touching me. Put on your homeward ring at once， Digory.” He wanted to get away without the Witch.
“Oh， it‘s rings， is it？” cried Jadis. She would have had her hands in Digory’s pocket before you could say knife， but Digory grabbed Polly and shouted out：
“Take care. If either of you come half an inch nearer， we two will vanish and you‘ll be left here for good. Yes： I have a ring in my pocket that will take Polly and me home. And look！ My hand is just ready. So keep your distance. I’m sorry about you” （he looked at the Cabby） “and about the horse， but I can‘t help that. As for you two” （he looked at Uncle Andrew and the Queen）， “you’re both magicians， so you ought to enjoy living together.”
“‘Old your noise， everyone，” said the Cabby. “I want to listen to the moosic.”
For the song had now changed.
The Founding Of Narnia