With an "e"

The child hesitated for a moment.

"Will you please call me Cordelia?" she said eagerly.

"Call you Cordelia! Is that your name?"

"No-o-o-o, it's not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name."

I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn't you name, what is?"

"Anne Shirley," reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name, "but oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, can it? And Anne is such an unromatic name."

"Unromantic fiddlesticks!" said the unsympathetic Marilla. "Anne is a good plain sensible name. You've no need to be ashamed of it."

"Oh, I'm not ashamed of it," explained Anne, "only I like Cordelia better. I've always imagined that my name was Cordelia -- at least, I always have of late years. When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne, please call me Anne splled with an e."

"What difference does it make how it's spelled?" asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.

"Oh, it makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer. When you hear a name pronounced can't you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out? I can; and A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks somuch more distinguished. If you'll only call me Anne spelled with an e I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia."

From - but of course - Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery