“Oh, yes, Georgie,” said William, “only a little....”
“YOU’RE ONLY PUTTING A LITTLE ON, AREN’T YOU?”
GEORGIE ASKED ANXIOUSLY.
“OH, YES, GEORGIE,” WILLIAM REASSURED HIM—“ONLY
A LITTLE.”
They plastered his head and face with mud from the pond and dropped a goodly portion of it upon his blouse. Fortunately Georgie could not see his upper half very well.
“You’re only putting a little on, aren’t you?” he asked anxiously.
“Oh, yes, Georgie,” William reassured him, “only a little. Now you look lovely. You look jus’ like King John after he’d been tryin’ to find his things in the Wash—divin’ in for ’em an’ all....”
Certainly the perfect little gentleman was unrecognisable. His suit was covered with mud, his hair was caked with mud, his face was streaked with mud. He had waded in mud. His smile, though still there, was almost invisible. No longer did his curls glint in the sun.
“Now let’s start, shall we?” said William, his spirits rising as he gazed at his handiwork. “First of all I’ll go on with Ginger—we’re your heralds you know—and we’ll say you’re coming; ‘Make way for King John’ or somethin’ like that. Then you come on with Henry and Douglas and you speak to ’em. You know what King John said to ’em in History, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do,” said Georgie. “What did he say?”