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T was a great day in Sir Ector's castle when he

IT

and Sir Kay with their squires and men-at-arms set out for London. Their well-polished arms flashed in the morning sun as they mounted their steeds and rode lightly forth from the high-towered gate. From the windows and balconies smiling but tearful faces looked down, and cheerful voices bade them godspeed on their perilous journey. The trumpets sounded, white hands waved adieus, strong voices shouted good-by, and the little band galloped away through the dew-wet woods.

"To London Town! to London Town!" Sir Kay repeated to himself as he led the way down the steep

mountain path; and his dreams were of tourneys and battles and of a strange city, far away, of which he

knew nothing but the name.

"To London Town! to London Town!" sang Arthur, the young squire; but his heart was sad, and he thought only of his sorrowing mother and of the dear, pleasant home which he was now leaving for the first time, and perhaps forever.

And where was this London Town?

It was a very great way off. It was somewhere far beyond the hill country and the great woods. But even Sir Ector had no clear idea of the distance or the place. They would ride eastward and a little northward, and as they rode they would inquire the way.

Day after day they journeyed through tangled wilds and along pathways seldom trod. They left the rugged hills behind and traversed a land of marshes and gray swamps and wasted fields. They saw the ruins of many a hapless home. The smoke of burning hamlets and farmsteads rose far away on the misty horizon. At night, bale fires gleamed on the hilltops and told of the march of destroying foes. Sometimes in the green gloom of the woods a robber's stronghold frowned sullenly upon them. Sometimes the castle of a stanch-hearted knight who had weathered the storm opened its gates to them and welcomed them to its safe shelter.

"Is this the way to London Town?" they asked alike of knight and robber chief and famished churl.

And some said, "Yes, you are on the right road," while others answered: "You have missed the path. Ride back and take another course."

Thus they rode onward in the sun and shadow of many a crisp day of autumn and early winter. Often they were challenged at river fords and at the gates of wayside fortresses. But when they answered, "We are on our way to the great tournament at London Town," they were bidden to ride onward in peace.

After a while they began to overtake other companies of armed men who were bound for the same place. Then they came into a highroad which, farther on, was thronged with all sorts of folk, on horseback and on foot, pushing forward toward the great town. At length, on a sunny noon, midway between Christmas and New Year's Day, they rode joyfully into famous London Town.

Close by the city gates was the broad field where the tournament was to take place. Already the grounds were crowded with the tents and pavilions of knights and noblemen who had come to be present at the contest. To Sir Kay and to Arthur, his young squire, the scene was bewildering. Accustomed only to the quiet of their remote mountain home, they felt now as if they were being ushered into a new world wholly strange and unknown to them. The gay pavilions, with bright pennants floating above them, the brilliant trappings of the horses, the dazzling armor of the assembled knights, the shouting, the

racing, the never ending tumult what youth, beholding them for the first time, would not have been speechless with wonder?

As the little band of strangers from the West made their way through this scene of confusion and splendor, they attracted but slight attention. They rode slowly onward, Sir Ector leading the way. They rode down the long street by the riverside, pausing now and then to inquire for lodgings. Being but few in number and unused to the ways of others, they deemed it best to take up their quarters in the town rather than encamp, as so many were doing, on the open commons.

There were not many people on the street that day, for all who had leisure were gone out to see the sights. But as Sir Kay rode between the houses, soft eyes looked down from the windows, and maidenly voices asked, "Who is that young knight who sits his horse so nobly?" Then, as their gaze fell upon his squire, with his long yellow hair and sky-blue eyes, the same questioners sighed and said, "Ah! this is by far the noblest of the company.”

"B."

- From "Stories of the King," published by American Book Company.

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PRINCE

the daughter of Thistlehair, filled his heart, although he had not heard her name before. His face flushed with happiness, and his eyes shone with joy. "What is the matter, my son?" asked his father. "Why are you so gay and glad?"

"Father," answered Kilhugh, "my stepmother says that no one but Olwen shall be my wife."

"Well," quoth the king, "I doubt not there will be trouble enough before that saying comes true. But do not fear, my son. Thou art first cousin to

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