"I don't know, darling."
"Do you know, daddy?"
"Yes, Peggy. I know. You were thought of here, in this wood, under this tree, on mummy's birthday, between eight and nine years ago."
"Who thought of me?"
"Ah, that's telling."
"Who thought of me, mummy?"
"Daddy and I, dear."
"And you forgot, and daddy remembered."
"Yes. I've got a rather better memory than your mother, dear."
"You forgot my old birthday, daddy."