This morning, the Princess came running down the corridor to me in floods of tears.
Me: What’s wrong sweetheart?
Her (gasping between sobs): Daddy is torturing me, the big meanie.
Me: What did he do?
Her: The mean old Daddy treated me like Cinderella.
Her: He wouldn’t help me make my jigsaw.
Me: Why not?
Her (she is without guile): Because he wanted me to eat my breakfast.
Later, while helping her to make the offending jigsaw:
Me: Is there a piece still in the box?
Her (peering inside): We’ll see whether the mean old torturing Daddy left a piece in the box.