e niece and
nephew would be just as glad of it as if it were new, and maybe gladder;
for they had heard a great deal about these stories, how perfectly
splendid they were--like the Pumpkin-Glory, and the Little Pig that took
the Poison Pills, and the Proud Little Horse-car that fell in Love with
the Pullman Sleeper, and Jap Doll Hopsing's Adventures in Crossing the
Continent, and the Enchantment of the Greedy Travellers, and the Little
Boy whose Legs turned into Bicycle Wheels. At last the papa said, "This
is a very peculiar kind of a story. It's about a Prince and a Princess."

"Oh!" went both of the children; and then they stopped themselves, and
stuffed the covering into their mouths.

The papa lifted himself on his elbow and stared severely at them, first
at one, and then at the other. "Have you finished?" he asked, as if
they had interrupted him; but he really wanted to gain time, so as to
think up a story of some kind. The children were afraid to say anything,
and the papa went on with freezing politeness: "Because if you have, I
might like to say something myself. This story is about a Prince and a
Princess, but the thing of it is that they had names almost exactly
alike. They were twins; the Prince was a boy and the Princess was a
girl; that was a point that their fairy godmother carried against the
wicked enchantress who tried to have it just the other way; but it made
the wicked enchantress so mad that the fairy godmother had to give in to
her a little, and let them be named almost exactly alike."

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
Princ