Sir Tristram leant on his sword. "In faith, he is a mighty giant. I fear me that even my trusty blade would be of little avail against him."
George smiled. "Oh no! He's fearfully strong, but he's very kind, although he does tell very long stories."
"Stories?" asked Sir Tristram. He had hardly spoken when the giant was at their side again.
"I'm quite dry now!" he roared. He seemed to be very pleased with himself, and smiled a huge smile as he asked: "Did I hear you saying that you wanted to hear a story? Wait a minute!"—and before they guessed what he was about he was lying on the ground with his head close up to them.
"I'm afraid it's going to be very long," whispered George to Sir Tristram, who sat with his sword between his knees, gazing at the giant in astonishment.
"Well, once upon a time there was a prince——"
"Had he a sausage?" asked George.
"Yes. How did you know?... Oh, I must have told you that story before. It doesn't matter, for I never tell it twice in the same way. My stories are always changing; the older they are the longer they grow."
George sighed. "Oh dear! This is going to be a dreadfully long story. Never mind; I missed most of it the last time, and perhaps he'll go to sleep again."