Damsel Disaster! Read Free Page A

gentlemen,” called Sir Percy, as we came to the back of the line. “Kindly let me past. I have – er– important business at the castle.”
    The man at the end of the line turned round. He was wearing a cracked old chamber pot on his head.
    “The castle, eh?” he said. “Yer better join the queue then, mate, ’adn’t yer?”
    “Queue?” Sir Percy puffed out his chest. “My dear sir, I will have you know that I am riding to see Her Royal Highness Princess Fel – Astral—
OOOH!
”
    Sir Percy groaned as his tummy gave its loudest grumble so far.
    “Astra-Felicia, Sir Percy,” I said.
    “Precisely, Cedric,” said Sir Percy, recovering. “And I’ll have you know, sir, that I have every intention of becomingher husband!”
    Chamber-pot man roared with laughter and several other men turned round.
    They were also wearing pots and buckets on their heads.
    “’Ear that, lads?” said chamber-pot man. “We’re all wastin’ our time! This joker reckons she’s already chosen
’im
!”
    The men nearby tittered.
    “Just cos ’e’s splashed out on a proper knight’s costoom,” jeered a man squinting out from a hole in the side of a rotten old bucket.
    “How rude!” said Sir Percy. “Don’t you—
OOOH!
” He grimaced as his tummy gave an even louder grumble.“Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”
    Chamber-pot man screwed up his eyes and stared closely at Sir Percy. Then he grinned.
    “Arrr! Of course!” he declared. “You’re that ratcatcher from up Little Piddlington way.”

    “I –
ooooh!
– most certainly am not!” snorted Sir Percy. “My dear sir, I am a
real
knight. In fact, I am none other than Sir Percy the Proud!”
    “Arr, me, too!” said a man sporting a battered old sieve with a leafy twig stuck in the top. “Do ’ee like me plume?”
    “An’ I’m Sir Roland the Rotten!” said the man in the holey bucket. He lifted it to reveal a moustache made out of straw and tied under his nose with string.
    “So yer see, mister, we’re
all
waiting to see the princess,” said chamber-pot man. “Yer’ll just have to join the queue.”
    “Oh, Cedric, this is ridiculous!” said Sir Percy. “I refuse to be held up by a crowdof peasants shamelessly pretending to be knights. It’s against the law, for one thing. It’s also jolly unfair. I do hate cheating.”
    Yeah, right,
I thought.
    “It’s nearly midday and they’re going to make me late. Cedric, please get rid of them and—
OOOOH! AAAAH!
Oh dear. I think I’m going to … I need… Oh no.
ARRRGH!
GET OUT OF MY WAY!”
    In a flash Sir Percy slid off Prancelot and bolted into the woods, clutching his tummy.
    “Where’s ’e off to then?” asked chamber-pot man.
    “Oh, he’s given up and gone home,” said Patchcoat.
    “Huh?” I began. But Patchcoat quickly dug me in the ribs.
    “He knew that costume of his wouldn’t fool anyone,” Patchcoat went on. “You see, it’s only made of shiny paper.”
    What on earth was Patchcoat playing at?
    “Arr, I could tell!” said chamber-pot man. “Looks right cheap ’n’ nasty!”
    “Yeah, doesn’t it?” chuckled Patchcoat. “Not like that helmet you’ve got there. That looks
really
fireproof.”
    “Eh?” said chamber-pot man. “What d’yer mean, fireproof?”
    “Well, it’ll be useful when you fight the dragon,” said Patchcoat.
    “Dragon? What dragon?” said chamber-pot man.
    Aha.
Now
I saw what Patchcoat was up to. But would they believe him?
    At that moment there was a tremendous exploding noise from the nearby woods, accompanied by a wild, blood-curdling howl.
    “WAAAARRGGGGH!!!”
    The crowd shuffled nervously.
    “
That
dragon,” said Patchcoat. “You know, the one the princess has got chained up in the woods.”
    There was another thunderous explosion and an even more terrifying howl.
    “’Ere – that there poster only saysthere’ll be a challenge. It don’t say nothin’ about fightin’ no dragons!” said the man in the holey