“‘Yes,’ ses I.
“‘Well, the night before King Lir’s lovely daughter Fionnuala and her two brothers were turned into swans by the magic power of their stepmother, and condemned to wander on the waters of the world for three hundred years, I was sitting by my own fireside, reading about the adventures of Brian Boru, the Red Branch Knights, Queen Maeve, and Deirdre.’
“‘Pardon me,’ ses I, ‘Brian Boru wasn’t born when King Lir took unto himself a second wife.’
“‘You shouldn’t interrupt me for a trifle like that, though strictly speaking trifles are the cause of most interruptions. That’s only a historical mistake, and history itself is full of mistakes. And the man who can’t make a mistake must be a damn fool. However,’ ses he, ‘as I was sitting by the hearth reading away for myself, who should stroll into the drawing-room but a fairy princess with a wand in her hand? And as I didn’t know who she was or where she came from, I up and ses: “Good night, ma’am,” ses I, “as you wouldn’t say it yourself.”’
“‘Good night kindly,’ ses she.
“‘Might I ask who are you at all?’ ses I.
“‘If I told you who I am, you would be as wise as myself,’ ses she.
“‘Do you know who you are talking to?’ ses he.
“‘Indeed, I do,’ ses she. ‘You are Michael Henry Patrick Joseph Billy Dan MacMorrough, the Mayor of Laurna.’
“‘That’s my full name and title,’ ses he, ‘but I takes more after my mother’s people than my father’s.’