Her Father (rashly). The blackbird.
Pamela (conscious of superior knowledge). That isn't its name. That's what it looks like, all black; but its name is Dicky. B for Dicky.
Her Father. Well, have it your own way. What does S stand for?
Pamela (turning to the likeness of an elderly quadruped, with great assurance). Baa-lamb!
Her Father. Sometimes we call baa-lambs sheep.
Pamela. I don't.
Her Father. You will when you grow older.
Pamela. I won't be any older, not for ever so long. Not till next birfday. (Pushing her book away and assuming an air of extreme infancy) Tired of reading. Want a piggy-back, please!
Her Father (firmly taking up his review again). Not just now. I'm busy with a picture-book.
[A reproachful silence falls upon the room.