“Summer， I grant you，” said the Cabby. “’Ot work for you and a cool seat for me. But what about winter， old boy， when you was keeping yourself warm and I was sitting up there with my feet like ice and my nose fair pinched off me with the wind， and my ‘ands that numb I couldn’t ‘ardly ’old the reins？”
“It was a hard， cruel country，” said Strawberry. “There was no grass. All hard stones.”
“Too true， mate， too true！” said the Cabby. “A ‘ard world it was. I always did say those paving.stones weren’t fair on any ‘oss. That’s Lunn‘on， that is. I didn’t like it no more than what you did. You were a country ‘oss， and I was a country man. Used to sing in the choir， I did， down at ’ome. But there wasn‘t a living for me there.”
“Oh please， please，” said Digory. “Could we get on？ TheLion’s getting further and further away. And I do want to speak to him so dreadfully badly.”
“Look ‘ere， Strawberry，” said the Cabby. “This young gen’leman ‘as something on his mind that he wants to talk to the Lion about； ’im you call Aslan. Suppose you was to let ‘im ride on your back （which ’e‘d take it very kindly） and trot ’im over to where the Lion is. And me and the little girl will be following along.”