Julian rolled his eyes upward.
"How do you start a dance at zero?" he inquired. "Just give me a clue."
At this moment, staring beyond him, Portia gasped. Footsteps were sounding slowly on the attic stairs, and just above the level of the attic floor appeared the helmet of an armored knight.
"Oh, Jule, oh, Jule," she whispered, grasping his arm; and then she wished she hadn't. How she wished she hadn't! Because below the shining headdress of Sir Launcelot was the figure of her brother Foster, sloppily attired in blue jeans and a grass-stained T-shirt.
"When Knighthood Was in Flower," commented Julian, kindly ignoring his cousin's moment of panic.
"Get me out of here, will you?" begged Foster, his plea reverberating in the helmet. "Please hurry up."
When Julian had liberated him, he did a little hopping.
"Now my head feels light again. I feel light all over, and nice. But you know what, Jule? I bet they used to have a lot of headaches in knight-days. And stiff necks, too. And if their ear itched, how could they ever scratch it?"