Free William The Outlaw by Richmal Crompton Page B

Georgie hastily.
    ‘Who’ll be King John?’ said William.
    ‘ I’ll be King John,’ said Georgie.
    ‘All right,’ said William with unexpected amenity, ‘an’ shall Ginger an’ me be your two heralds an’ Douglas and Henry your servants or
somethin’?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Georgie, and added, ‘You needn’t do anythin’ but jus’ stand there – any of you. I’ll do the actin’.’
    ‘All right,’ agreed William, still with disarming humility. ‘You know all about the story, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, of course I do.’
    ‘About how King John went into the Wash tryin’ to find his things—’
    ‘Yes, I know all that.’
    ‘An’ the Wash was a kind of a bog—’
    ‘Yes, I know.’
    ‘An’ he came out all muddy but couldn’t find his things ’cause they’d sunk in the mud.’
    ‘Yes, I know.’
    ‘An’ he came to his two servants called Dam an’ Blarst—’
    ‘Called—?’
    ‘ Fancy you not knowin’ about King John’s servants bein’ called Dam an’ Blarst!’
    ‘I did know,’ said Georgie, ‘I’ve known it for ever so long . . . What did you say they were called?’
    ‘Dam and Blarst.’
    ‘Dam and Blarst. Of course I knew.’
    ‘Well, let’s get you ready for bein’ King John . . . ’S no good goin’ on as King John lookin’ like that when you’re s’posed to’ve just come
out of a bog looking for your things . . . no one’d give anyone a prize for that. ’
    ‘I’m not going to get myself all muddy, so there!’
    ‘All right,’ said William, ‘ I’ll be King John. I don’t care.’
    ‘No, I’m going to be King John,’ persisted Georgie.
    ‘Well, you can’t be King John,’ said William firmly, ‘if you don’t get yourself a bit muddy like what he was when he come back from losin’ his things in the
Wash. It’ll easy come off afterwards. Jus’ take off your shoes an’ stockings an’ paddle about a bit at the edge of the pond. You needn’t mess up anythin’ but
jus’ your feet.’
    There was a silence in which Georgie’s love of chocolate creams fought with his instincts of cleanliness and put them to flight.
    ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind muddying my feet just a bit. ’
    He took off his shoes and stockings. William and Ginger took off theirs too.
    ‘Just to help you, Georgie,’ they said, ‘and to stop you fallin’ in or anythin’.’
    They held him firmly on either side, and walked him down to the pond. ‘Jus’ because we wun’t like you to fall an’ mess up your suit,’ said William.
    ‘Be careful, Georgie,’ said Ginger, ‘don’ go too far.’
    ‘Be careful, Georgie,’ said William, ‘mind you don’t fall.’
    At last they returned to the bank.
    ‘Nice sort of help you were,’ said Georgie indignantly, ‘why, you made me go in lots further than I meant to and, look, you’ve got mud all over my
trousers.’
    ‘Sorry, Georgie,’ said William meekly, ‘that was where I splashed you by mistake, wasn’t it? Shall I be King John if you don’t like it?’
    ‘No, I’m goin’ to be King John,’ said Georgie. ‘Well, shall we go and do it now?’
    William looked at him doubtfully. Georgie was gloriously muddy as far as his lower regions were concerned but his face and blouse were still spotlessly clean and his curls still glinted in the
sun.
    ‘It’s not quite right yet, Georgie,’ he said gently. ‘Don’ you remember how in History King John dived into the Wash after his things?’
    ‘Yes, I know,’ said Georgie, ‘I know all about that.’
    ‘Well, ’s no good you goin’ actin’ King John an’ not lookin’ as if you’d jus’ dived into a bog,’ said William.
    ‘I tell you,’ said Georgie indignantly, ‘I’m not goin’ to put any more nasty mud on me.’
    ‘All right,’ said William kindly, ‘let Ginger be King John . . . he won’t mind.’
    ‘No, I’m goin’ to be King John,’ said Georgie.
    ‘We’ll jus’ put a bit of mud on your hair then,’ said William