Knight for a Day Read Free

girl!”
    Daisy trotted out to greet her master.
    “Iglaf-way!” she cried happily.
    Wiglaf had brought Daisy with him to DSA from Pinwick. On the way, a wizard had cast a spell on Daisy, giving her the power of speech. She now spoke perfect Pig Latin.
    The two sat down together in a cozy corner of the henhouse for a long talk. Wiglaf often told Daisy things he could tell no one else.
    “Erica polished her armor,” Wiglaf said. “Then she polished Sir Mort’s armor with him in it. The school stinks of silver polish.”
    Daisy wrinkled her snout. “Ee-pay oo-yay!”
    “Erica is working on a welcome cheer for Sir Lancelot,” Wiglaf went on. “She is forever chanting bits of it, trying to get it right.” He sighed. “And every night she reads aloud from Sir Lancelot’s memoir.”
    “Ow-hay illing-thray!” Daisy exclaimed.
    “But it is not thrilling,” Wiglaf said. “Sir Lancelot wins every battle. He slays every dragon. Every damsel falls madly in love with him. He is always so...”
    “Erfect-pay,” Daisy suggested.
    “Yes,” Wiglaf agreed. “Perfect.”
    Wiglaf was sick of hearing about Sir Lancelot. And yet, he thought, how very fine to be a perfect knight.

    “You, carrot top.” Sir Mort pointed to Wiglaf the next day in Stalking Class. “Show the class the Stealth Stalk, lad.”
    Wiglaf leaped to his feet. His heart thumped with joy. He quickly pulled off his boots. He stood by Sir Mort, ready to stalk.
    “Here’s a sly way to go after a dragon,” Sir Mort told the class. “Ready?”
    “Yes, sir,” Wiglaf said. He bent his knees. He put his left foot in front of his right. He put his right foot in front of his left.
    Suddenly a trumpet blast split the air. Everyone ran to the window-except for Wiglaf. He stood frozen to the spot, unsure whether to keep stalking.
    “What is it, lads?” Sir Mort called.
    “It’s a messenger,” Angus said. “He is riding toward the castle gate.”
    “He is waving a white banner,” Torblad added. “It has a red letter C in the middle.”
    “That’s the flag of Camelot!” cried Erica. “The messenger is coming to tell me that I have won the Sir Lancelot contest!”
    “Class dismissed!” Sir Mort said.
    With that, the students ran down the tower stairs, with Erica in the lead. Angus somehow managed to keep up with her. Wiglaf brought up the rear. He felt bad that his Stealth Stalk demonstration had been interrupted.
    But once outside, Wiglaf couldn’t help catching the spirit of the day. Boys spilled out of every classroom into the castle yard talking excitedly. They ran toward the gatehouse.
    Mordred was directing two student teachers who were cranking down the drawbridge. Erica pushed her way between them. She grabbed the badly rusted handle and began cranking, too. That sped things up quite a bit.
    “The bridge is down!” Mordred called at last. “Throw open the castle gates!”
    Wiglaf heard the sound of horse’s hooves on the wooden bridge. Then the messenger, his banner flying, galloped into the castle yard.
    “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he called. “I bear good news for one lucky boy!”
    “For me!” Erica cried. “Let’s have it!”
    The messenger jumped off his horse. He pulled a parchment scroll from his saddlebag. He unrolled it and began to read: “Sir Lancelot, the world’s most perfect knight, shall spend the day here with the contest winner. He will arrive tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow!” Erica gasped. “Zounds! I shan’t sleep a wink tonight.”
    “That means we won’t either,” Angus mumbled to Wiglaf.
    “The winning essay,” the messenger went on, “was written by...” He stopped and looked around. Not a sound could be heard. The boys stood still as statues. The messenger glanced at his scroll. “By... Wiglaf of Pinwick!”
    A stunned silence filled the castle yard.
    “What?” Erica cried when she found her voice. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
    That has to be it, Wiglaf thought. A joke.
    “Knights never joke,”