g, handsome hero of this tale, out of
the goodness of his heart, his love for the king, and the excitement
of the challenge (and scarcely considering the money or the girl more
than four or five hours a day), decided to take a few minutes to
examine the problem before he tried to solve it.

"Just what is it the king wants to do?" he asked himself. "He wants
to send his mail quickly. And just what is mail? It's a message,
information. Information, hmm. Information can be sent
electronically, by wire or transmission. Yes. Hmm. Yes--A
transmitter on one end and a printer on the other end would permit
the king's mail to be sent at the speed of light. That should pretty
much squash Sir Rodney's proposal to use battery-powered frisbees."

Well, what can we say? The brilliance of this proposal was so
obvious that Sir Reginald was declared the winner and the plan was
immediately instituted. The mail began to arrive on time, the king
soon became popular again in the outlying regions, and Sir Reginald
retired to spend the rest of his days in a spiffy castle on top of
a hill, with his totally gorgeous wife and, later, seventeen children.

How the Noble Percival Won the Fair Arissa

Once upon a time in a kingdom by the sea, two knights stood talking
about the strategy of battle when their conversation was interrupted
by the sight of the beautiful Arissa as she walked upon the green.
"Forsooth, I think I'll ask her for a date," said Sir Wishful, one
of the knights. "Ditto," said Sir Percival, the other knight.

So Sir Wishful sauntered up to Arissa in his most elegant and
refined manner, and, twirling his mustache genteelly, said, "Arissa,
my dear, methinks I'd like to take you out to dinner."

Arissa sized up Sir Wishful a moment and then replied, "Sorry,
Wishy, you're not my type."

Sir Percival, seeing his rival stumble off in a confused,
embarrassed, humiliated, dazed--oh you get the idea. Anyway,
Sir Percival saw his opportunity and approached Arissa. "Arissa,"
he said, "how about a date anon?" Only a moment was needed for
the look of mild surprise to alter the beautiful maiden's features,
after which she laughed loudly in Sir Percival's face for a good
ten minutes.

Well, both Sir Wishful and Sir Percival retired to lick their wounds
and lament the fate of men in this whole romantic con game, and Sir
Wishful soon enough decided that he liked the taste of trout just
about as well as the taste of w