"Oh but that wouldn't be a bit right—would it, Auntie?"
"Of course not!" laughed Anthea, "it would be most un-knight-like, and very undignified."
"'Sides," added Small Porges, "you couldn't climb up a tree in your armour, you know."
"Then I'd make an awful' good try at it!" nodded Bellew.
"No," said Small Porges, shaking his head, "shall I tell you what you ought to do? Well then, you'd draw your two-edged sword, an' dress your shield,—like Gareth, the Kitchen Knave did,—he was always dressing his shield, an' so was Lancelot,—an' you'd fight all those dragons, an' kill them, an' cut their heads off."
"And then what would happen?" enquired Bellew.
"Why then the lovely Princess would open the gate, an' marry you of course, an' live happy ever after, an' all would be revelry an' joy."
"Ah!" sighed Bellew, "if she'd do that, I think I'd fight all the dragons that ever roared,—and kill them too. But supposing she—er—wouldn't open the gate."
"Why then," said Small Porges, wrinkling his brow, "why then—you'd have to storm the castle, of course, an' break open the gate an' run off with the Princess on your charger,—if she was very beautiful, you know."
"A most excellent idea, my Porges! If I should happen to find myself in like circumstances, I'll surely take your advice."