am not mistaken." Their tempers were rising rapidly, and the Chancellor of Barodia was just about to give the Chancellor of Euralia a push when Merriwig intervened...

"Never mind about that," he said impatiently. "Tell us what happened when our--our ancestors fought." "It happened in this way, your Majesty. Your Majesty's grandfather----" "Great-grandfather," said a small voice. The Chancellor cast one bitter look at his opponent and went on: "The ancestors of your two Majesties arranged to settle the war of that period by personal combat. The two armies were drawn up in full array. In front of them the two monarchs shook hands. Drawing their swords and casting their Magic Cloaks around them, they--" "Well?" said Merriwig eagerly. "It is rather a painful story, your Majesty." "Go on, I shan't mind." "Well, your Majesty, drawing their swords and casting their Magic Cloaks around them they--h'r'm--returned to the wassail bowl." "Dear, dear," said Merriwig. [Illustration: When the respective armies returned to camp they found their Majesties asleep]"When the respective armies, who had been waiting eagerly the whole of the afternoon for some result of the combat, returned to camp, they found their Majesties----"Asleep," said the Chancellor of Euralia hastily."Asleep," agreed the Chancellor of Barodia. "The excuse of their two Majesties that they had suddenly forgotten the day, though naturally accepted at the time, was deemed inadequate by later historians." (By Roger and myself, anyway.)

Some further details were discussed, and then the conference closed. The great fight was fixed for the following morning.

The day broke fine. At an early hour Merriwig was up and practising thrusts upon a suspended pillow. At intervals he would consult a little book entitled _Sword Play for Sovereigns_, and then return to his pillow. At breakfast he was nervous but talkative. After breakfast he wrote a tender letter to Hyacinth and a still more tender one to the Countess Belvane, and burnt them. He repeated his little rhyme, "Bo, Boll, Bill, Bole," several times to himself until he was word perfect. It was just possible that it might be useful. His last thoughts as he rode on to the field were of his great-grandfather.

Without admiring him, he quite saw his point.

The fight was a brilliant one. First Merriwig aimed a blow at the King of Barodia's head which the latter parried. Then the King of Barodia aimed a blow at his adversary's head which Merriwig parried. This went on three or four times, and then Merriwig put into 

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