Tirian suddenly felt awkward about coming among these eople with the blood and dust and sweat of a battle still n him. Next moment he realized that he was not in that ate at all. He was fresh and cool and clean， and dressed such clothes as he would have worn for a great feast at air Paravel. （But in Narnia your good clothes were never our uncomfortable ones. They knew how to make things hat felt beautiful as well as looking beautiful in Narnia： and here was no such thing as starch or flannel or elastic to beound from one end of the country to the other.）“Sire，” said Jill coming forward and making a beautiful urtsey， “let me make you known to Peter the High King ver all Kings in Narnia.”
Tirian had no need to ask which was the High King， for e remembered his face （though here it was far nobler） om his dream. He stepped forward， sank on one knee and issed Peter’s hand.
“High King，” he said. “You are welcome to me.”
