The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

Now the Witch said nothing at all, but moved gently across the room, always keeping her
face and eyes very steadily towards the Prince. When she had come to a little ark set in
the wall not far from the fireplace, she opened it, and took out first a handful of a green
powder. This she threw on the fire. It did not blaze much, but a very sweet and drowsy
smell came from it. And all through the conversation which followed, that smell grew
stronger, and filled the room, and made it harder to think. Secondly, she took out a
musical instrument rather like a mandolin. She began to play it with her fingers - a
steady, monotonous thrumming that you didn't notice after a few minutes. But the less
you noticed it, the more it got into your brain and your blood. This also made it hard to
think. After she had thrummed for a time (and the sweet smell was now strong) she began
speaking in a sweet, quiet voice.
"Narnia?" she said. "Narnia? I have often heard your Lordship utter that name in your
ravings. Dear Prince, you are very sick. There is no land called Narnia."
"Yes there is, though, Ma'am," said Puddleglum. "You see, I happen to have lived there
all my life."
"Indeed," said the Witch. "Tell me, I pray you, where that country is?"
"Up there," said Puddleglum, stoutly, pointing overhead. "I - I don't know exactly
where."
"How?" said the Queen, with a kind, soft, musical laugh. "Is there a country up among
the stones and mortar of the roof?"
"No," said Puddleglum, struggling a little to get his breath. "It's in Overworld."
"And what, or where, pray is this . . . how do you call it. . . Overworld?"
"Oh, don't be so silly," said Scrubb, who was fighting hard against the enchantment of the
sweet smell and the thrumming. "As if you didn't know! It's up above, up where you can
see the sky and the sun and the stars. Why, you've been there yourself. We met you
there."
"I cry you mercy, little brother," laughed the Witch (you couldn't have heard a lovelier
laugh). "I have no memory of that meeting. But we often meet our friends in strange
places when we dream. And unless all dreamed alike, you must not ask them to
remember it."
"Madam," said the Prince sternly, "I have already told your Grace that I am the King's
son of Narnia."
"And shalt be, dear friend," said the Witch in a soothing voice, as if she was humouring a
child, "shalt be king of many imagined lands in thy fancies."