The King sat in silence for a moment. "Be it so!" he replied. "But I fear you little know the dangers and the trials which await you. Arms and money I can provide, but in no other way can I help you. If you succeed, then ask of me what you will and it is yours. Many have set out on this quest, but none return. Now my court is deserted, for a sad king has but few friends."
It was a clear, sunny morning. Sir Tristram and George were already upon their way to seek the enchanted Princess.
George was riding—actually riding!—upon a beautiful pony which the King had given him. You may imagine how proud he felt!
In which direction should they go? Sir Tristram and he talked it over, and, as it did not matter very much, they rode down the hill and out on to the plain, hoping by and by to come upon a good road to somewhere.
"It will be all right," said George. "On we go!"
He had scarcely said this when he caught sight of a little weathercock perched up on the top of a house roof. To be sure! His friend the weathercock had told him to ask any of his family he might meet to show him the way.
This weathercock was pointing straight down a long road across the plain, and when George told Sir Tristram this he nodded his head and said: "'Tis well! The weathercock knows the way better than we do."
They rode and rode until at last they came to a great forest. And now a dreadful thing happened, for when they were right in the middle of it they lost their way.
Sir Tristram dismounted. "Let us eat and then rest awhile. We shall find our way by and by. Here the adventure begins, young squire."