The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

"Ah!" said Puddleglum in a tone almost of contentment, "he'll want to have the leg off at
the knee, I shouldn't wonder. You see if he doesn't." But he was quite glad to stay in bed.
Breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast and Eustace tackled it just as if he had not had a
very large supper in the middle of the night.
"I say, Son of Adam," said the Faun, looking with a certain awe at Eustace's mouthfuls.
"There's no need to hurry quite so dreadfully as that. I don't think the Centaurs have quite
finished their breakfasts yet."
"Then they must have got up very late," said Eustace. "I bet it's after ten o'clock."
"Oh no," said Orruns. "They got up before it was light."
"Then they must have waited the dickens of a time for breakfast," said Eustace.
"No, they didn't," said Orruns. "They began eating the minute they awoke."
"Golly!" said Eustace. "Do they eat a very big breakfast?"
"Why, Son of Adam, don't you understand? A Centaur has a man-stomach and a horsestomach.
And of course both want breakfast. So first of all he has porridge and pavenders
and kidneys and bacon and omelette and cold ham and toast and marmalade and coffee
and beer. And after that he attends to the horse part of himself by grazing for an hour or
so and finishing up with a hot mash, some oats, and a bag of sugar. That's why it's such a
serious thing to ask a Centaur to stay for the week-end. A very serious thing indeed."
At that moment there was a sound of horse-hoofs tapping on rock from the mouth of the
cave, and the children looked up. The two Centaurs, one with a black and one with a
golden beard flowing over their magnificent bare chests, stood waiting for them, bending
their heads a little so as to look into the cave. Then the children became very polite and
finished their breakfast very quickly. No one thinks a Centaur funny when he sees it.
They are solemn, majestic people, full of ancient wisdom which they learn from the stars,
not easily made either merry or angry; but their anger is terrible as a tidal wave when it
comes.
"Good-bye, dear Puddleglum," said Jill, going over to the Marsh-wiggle's bed. "I'm sorry
we called you a wet blanket."
"So'm I," said Eustace. "You've been the best friend in the world."
"And I do hope we'll meet again," added Jill.
"Not much chance of that, I should say," replied Puddleglum. "1 don't reckon I'm very
likely to see my old wigwam again either. And that Prince - he's a nice chap - but do you