"Please, papa, tell me another story," Aria begged. Aslan chuckled.
"Perhaps later, my child," Aslan replied. "But, for now, I must get back to Narnia."
"Oh! Can I please come, papa? I've always wanted to go there! Please?" Aria showed her sad eyes.
"Please?" Aria asked in her sweetest voice. Aslan smiled.
"Very well. Since you are so eager, I will let you come. But Ariel must come, too" Ariel appeared from behind a tree.
"Someone call me?"
Pull back...aim...fire!*twang...thud* the black beast fell to the ground. "Ha! And you thought you were invincible. I, Lucy Pevensie, swear on Aslan's mane that no beast of the White Witch shall ever get past me!"
"Lucy, look out!" Edmund called. She swung around, with her sword in the air and chopped the fuzzy beast's head off. "Ha! Take that! And tha-"
The door opened,and Alanna's big brother, Jacob walked in. The door shut and Alanna whirled around, and dropped the pool noodle. "Are you still playing that stupid game?"
"One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire; limping because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we HAVE only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a goid deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit...