“Hmm…” the queen pondered convincingly, walking back and forth across her room. “You said it wasn’t Bill or Will… Could it be Phil?” she asked.
“No. That is not my name,” the man replied.
“And you said it wasn’t John or Ron. Could it be Juan?”
“No. That is not my name,” he replied, tapping his foot impatiently.
“Hmm… Could it be, by chance, Rumpelstiltskin?”
“Impossible! No fair! No fair!” the little man screeched angrily, stamping his foot hard on the ground.
He scurried around the queen’s room in a fit of rage. He smashed into walls; he thumped his foot; and he bumped his head. He smashed and thumped and bumped and jumped. And then, so blind with anger, the strange little man jumped right out of the queen’s window. He was never ever ever seen again.