On that June morning, Florentin had just stepped on board when the teacher came walking along the dock. She immediately noticed the bundle in his hands and quickly realized that there was a child inside. “Boy or girl?” she asked curiously. “Girl,” Florentin replied. “And whose daughter is she?” “Mine,” said Florentin without batting an eye. He preferred not to mention that the girl had grown from a peppermint stalk. He knew that teachers usually didn’t believe such things since there was nothing about it in their textbooks. “What’s her name?” the teacher continued with her questions. “Her name is… her name is… Mentha,” Florentin said after a brief moment of thought. He had considered adding “Piperita” but decided against it. He wasn’t sure whether the mint in his garden was really peppermint or perhaps a different, rare, and possibly still undiscovered variety. “Mentha?” the teacher wondered aloud. “I’ve never heard a name like that before. Does she live with you?” “If she’s my daughter, then she has to live with me, that’s obvious.” “Then remember to enroll her in school when she turns six,” the teacher reminded him. “I’ll remember,” promised Florentin, placed the bundle on the bench, and pushed the boat away from the shore. From that June morning onward, Mentha lived with Florentin.