Frank—Oh, Frank. Same as mine.
Knarf—No, not same as yours. It’s not Frank at all. It’s Knarf.
Frank—How do you spell it?
Knarf—Spell it? I don’t know what you mean.
Frank—Well, write it. Here. (Takes small pad of paper and pencil from pocket.)
Knarf—(taking them) What are they for.
Frank—To write with, of course. This way. (Takes them, and writes.) See. F—R—A—N—K. That’s Frank. That’s my name. Write yours.
Knarf—I can’t. I never heard of such a thing. Is Frank the name of that thing now? And haven’t you any name left, at all?
Frank—Well, of all the silly questions. Of course it’s my name just the same. The name of that thing is paper. And if I spell it backward, it’s Knarf, just like yours. I’ve done it for fun, lots of times.
Ecila—(to Alice) Can you separate yourself from your name, that way?