The harness-bells jingle tinnily.
He's wearing jeans and a thin white T-shirt and snow-soaked sneakers, and shivering appropriately. He doesn't look up when the sledge draws near.
He is too tall for a Dwarf, too small for a Giant, too young for an Incubus, too handsome for an Ogre - he is, in other words, a human.
She looks him over, hard, calculating.
It is rather improbable that he be a human.
"And what, pray, are you?"
She purses her lips. "I mean to say," she says, "that you do not look like a Dwarf -" she gestures at the dwarf - "nor an Ogre, nor a River-spirit, nor any of the other creatures I might normally find in surveying my realm - so - what are you?"
"Are you," says the Queen, smiling suddenly; it looks odd on her face, like an ice-sculpture of a fire. "Why don't you come up here and sit with me, and I will put my fur around you, and you will be more comfortable."
And she wraps him up in fur. Her own body hasn't warmed it at all, but it's still better than exposure to the wind, and presently his own escaping heat has it a bit better than that. "There you are. But of course that will not do all by itself -" She produces a bottle of some wicked-looking, thin liquid, pours a droplet onto the snow, and watches at it becomes a steaming mug of something with a thick head of froth. She gestures at the dwarf, and he hops up, picks up the mug, and offers it to the boy with a bow. "What is your name, dear child?"
"I am Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands. Go on, you may drink it."
"As you like," she says, and since he's not doing anything in particular with his face, she curls one cold finger under his chin, and tilts it up towards her for inspection, and smiles at him. "What do you like best to eat, dear nameless child?"
She drops another drop of her liquid into the snow, and presently it is a jar of jellybeans in every color, and the dwarf fetches it up for the boy with another bow.
"You may have them all; they are for you," says Jadis magnanimously. "I should like to hear all there is to know about you."
The queen laughs as though he has told a particularly clever joke. "Do you. Such diverse interests."
"Have you any brothers, or sisters? Did anyone come to this place with you?" she asks, and one long-nailed hand adjusts his hair, scratching gently over his scalp.