The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

you could not guess from her face what she thought of either or whether she was
surprised. She came forward with long, swift strides.
"Who has awaked me? Who has broken the spell?" she asked.
"I think it must have been me," said Digory.
"You!" said the Queen, laying her hand on his shoulder - a white, beautiful hand, but
Digory could feel that it was strong as steel pincers. "You? But you are only a child, a
common child. Anyone can see at a glance that you have no drop of royal or noble blood
in your veins. How did such as you dare to enter this house?"
"We've come from another world; by Magic," said Polly, who thought it was high time
the Queen took some notice of her as well as of Digory.
"Is this true?" said the Queen, still looking at Digory and not giving Polly even a glance.
"Yes, it is," said he.
The Queen put her other hand under his chin and forced it up so that she could see his
face better. Digory tried to stare back but he soon had to let his eyes drop. There was
something about hers that overpowered him.
After she had studied him for well over a minute, she let go of his chin and said:
"You are no magician. The mark of it is not on you. You must be only the servant of a
magician. It is on another's Magic that you have travelled here."
"It was my Uncle Andrew," said Digory.
At the moment, not in the room itself but from somewhere very close, there came, first a
rumbling, then a creaking, and then a roar of falling masonry, and the floor shook.
"There is great peril here," said the Queen. "The whole palace is breaking up. If we are
not out of it in a few minutes we shall be buried under the ruin." She spoke as calmly as if
she had been merely mentioning the time of day. "Come," she added, and held out a hand
to each of the children. Polly, who was disliking the Queen and feeling rather sulky,
would not have let her hand be taken if she could have helped it. But though the Queen
spoke so calmly, her movements were as quick as thought. Before Polly knew what was
happening her left hand had been caught in a hand so much larger and stronger than her
own that she could do nothing about it.
"This is a terrible woman," thought Polly. "She's strong enough to break my arm with one
twist. And now that she's got my left hand I can't get at my yellow ring. If I tried to
stretch across and get my right hand into my left pocket I mightn't be able to reach it,
before she asked me what I was doing. Whatever happens we mustn't let her know about