Here the papa stopped, and after waiting for him to go on, the nephew ventured to ask, very respectfully indeed, "Would you mind telling us what their names were, uncle?"
The papa rubbed his forehead. "I have such a bad memory for names. Hold on! Wait a minute! I remember now! Their names were Butterflyflutterby and Flutterbybutterfly." Of course he had just thought up the names.
"And which was which, uncle dear?" asked the niece, not only very respectfully, but very affectionately, too; she was so afraid he would get mad again, and stop altogether.
"Why, I should think you would know a girl's name when you heard it. Butterflyflutterby was the Prince and Flutterbybutterfly was the Princess."
"I don't see how we're ever going to keep them apart," sighed the niece.
"You've got to keep them apart," said the papa. "Because it's the great thing about the story that if you can't remember which is the Prince and which is the Princess whenever I ask you, the story has to stop. It can't help it, and I can't help it."