"It is a great thing you ask," said the king. "Who are you, and what claim has your son to this high honor?"

"I am but a cowherd, great sir, and am the father of thirteen sons. But this one is unlike all the rest. He will do no labor, and cares for nothing but warlike sports, and seeing knights and battles. And day and night he craves for knighthood."

"What is thy name?" the king asked the young man.

"Sir, my name is Tor."

The king looked at him closely. He was of handsome face, and was very well made and strong of limb and body.

"Where is the sword with which this youth shall be made knight?" asked the king.

"It is here," said Tor.

"Then draw it from the scabbard, and require me to make you a knight."

At these words the youth sprang lightly and gladly from his mare, drew the sword, and kneeled before the king, asking him in earnest tones to make him a Knight of the Round Table.

"A knight I will make you," answered the king. "But the Round Table is not for untried youth."