"No, no, they won't remain your own any longer than when it is plain you can't tell my name."
"Is it Bolg?" said Bloom-of-Youth.
"Bolg is one of my names," screamed the Witch of the Elders, "but one of my names won't let you go free."
"Is it Curr?"
"Curr is another of my names, but two of my names won't let you go free."
"Is it Carr?"
"Carr is another of my names, but three of my names will not let you go free."
"I know your other names too," said Bloom-of-Youth.
"Say them, say them," screamed the Witch of the Elders.
But when she tried to think of them Bloom-of-Youth found that the last two names had gone out of her mind. Not for all the drops that were in her heart could she remember them.