Lost in Translation

June and Robyn share a room and have a bunk bed. This was a very hard transition when we first moved them together, but they have worked out most of the kinks. On any given night, they go to sleep fine, but other evenings we hear bickering and complaints from one or the other. Usually one says something like, "June isn't being quiet," or "She is calling me names."
There isn't a lot we can do about this aside from taping their mouths shut (which I have been tempted to do some nights). Sometimes we put one in the loft until the other is asleep. Usually they work it out eventually.
Last night was one of these blessed evenings. June was on her third round of tattling on Robyn. She quietly comes into our room to explain what Robyn is doing wrong (this, in itself, is a brave act because usually someone out of bed is going to be in trouble themselves). She found me downstairs and said, "Robyn is being too noisy and I can't sleep." (As if she is sitting there dutifully trying to sleep). I told her to politely ask Robyn to be more quiet. So she scurries up to bed and I don't think much more about it until I hear the booming voice of Dad say, "Juuuuuuuuuuuuune," in a scolding tone that I often use myself.
Apparently (as I hear from Dad later) she ran upstairs, climbed into bed and said, "Robyn, Mom says be quiet or she won't love you anymore."
Wow, I think something got lost in translation there.