"Why the musing melancholy?" she pursued.
"I'm coming out of Fairyland into the Realm of Realities," he explained. "And I don't believe in realities any more."
"I'm a reality," she averred.
"No." He shook his head. "You're a figment. I made you up, myself, in a burst of creative genius."
"Just like that? Right out of your head?"
"Out of my heart," he corrected.
"Then why not have moulded me nearer to the heart's desire?" she queried cunningly. "Do you still think I'm homely?"
He shut his eyes firmly. "I do."
"And cross?"
"A regular virago."