boy, had been selected for the role of
Mordred. His perfect conduct had earned for him the sardonic sobriquet,
"The Little Gentleman," among his boy acquaintances. (Naturally he had
no friends.) Hence the other boys supposed that he had been selected for
the wicked Mordred as a reward of virtue. He declaimed serenely:

"I hight Sir Mordred the Child, and I teach
Lessons of selfishest evil, and reach
Out into darkness. Thoughtless, unkind,
And ruthless is Mordred, and unrefined."

The Child Mordred was properly rebuked and denied the accolade, though,
like the others, he seemed to have assumed the title already. He made
a plotter's exit. Whereupon Maurice Levy rose, bowed, announced that he
highted the Child Sir Galahad, and continued with perfect sang-froid:

"I am the purest of the pure.
I have but kindest thoughts each day.
I give my riches to the poor,
And follow in the Master's way."

This elicited tokens of approval from the Child King Arthur, and he bade
Maurice "stand forth" and come near the throne, a command obeyed with
the easy grace of conscious merit.

It was Penrod's turn. He stepped back from his chair, the table between
him and the audience, and began in a high, breathless monotone:

"I hight Sir Lancelot du Lake, the Child,
Gentul-hearted, meek, and mild.
What though I'm BUT a littul child,
Gentul-heartud, meek, and mild,
I do my share though but--though but----"

Penrod paused and gulped. The voice of Mrs. Lora Rewbush was heard from
the wings, prompting irritably, and the Child. Sir Lancelot repeated:

"I do my share though but--though but a tot,
I pray you knight Sir Lancelot!"

This also met the royal favour, and Penrod was bidden to join Sir
Galahad at the throne. As he crossed the stage, Mrs. Schofield whispered
to Margaret:

"That boy! He's unpinned his mantle and fixed it to cover his whole
costume. After we worked so hard to make it becoming!"

"Never mind; he'll have to take the cape off in a minute," returned
Margaret. She leaned forward suddenly, narrowing her eyes to see
better. "What IS that thing hanging about his left ankle?" she whispered
uneasily. "How queer! He must have got tangled in something."

"Where?" asked Mrs. Schofield, in alarm.

"His left foot. It makes him stumble. Don't you see? It looks--it looks
like an elephant's foot!"

The Child Sir Lancelot and the Child Sir Galahad claspe