“No, I’m goin’ to be King John,” said Georgie. “Well, shall we go and do it now?”
William looked at him doubtfully. Georgie was gloriously muddy as far as his lower regions were concerned but his face and blouse were still spotlessly clean and his curls still glinted in the sun.
“It’s not quite right yet, Georgie,” he said gently. “Don’ you remember how in History King John dived into the Wash after his things?”
“Yes, I know,” said Georgie, “I know all about that.”
“Well, s’no good you goin’ actin’ King John an’ not lookin’ as if you’d jus’ dived into a bog,” said William.
“I tell you,” said Georgie indignantly, “I’m not goin’ to put any more nasty mud on me.”
“All right,” said William kindly, “let Ginger be King John ... he won’t mind.”
“No, I’m goin’ to be King John,” said Georgie.
“We’ll jus’ put a bit of mud on your hair then,” said William persuasively, “it’ll soon wash off an’ it would be awfully nice if you got the prize, Georgie.”
“All right,” said Georgie relenting, “but only a little, mind.”