Separate names with a comma.
"I suppose at first," he said. "Not after."
"So would four be the perfect number?"
"I don't know," she said quietly. "Haven't given it much thought."
"But then we would be all wet and uncomfortable," he pointed out. "It wouldn't be funny for that long."
"Three, if not two."
She exhaled slightly, shuddering. "Good," she murmured weakly. "Good."
"I'm. Fine," he said. "I won't push you in."
"Five?" He shook his head. "Jeez."
"Maybe," she murmured. "Floerae?"
"Would you be mad if I pushed you in?" he asked. "Not that I would."
"What's the perfect number, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She shook her head, trying to think straight. "Mm. Not... not Maydye. Somewhere quiet.."
"Even if you do that," he said. "I will still be mad, though."
"Hmph. I not judging them," he said. "Just stating my opinion.
She still held his shirt tightly, though her grip seemed to be getting looser.
"No, we promised," he told her. "Despite your mean words, I'll stay with you."
"I think two is enough," he said.
She turned her head towards him, tears silently falling down her cheeks.
"I don't trust traitors, Poppy."
"Six children is a lot," he said. " In my opinion, at least."
