Free The Adventures of Sir Lancelot the Great by Gerald Morris Page B

lady?"
    "WAAAH! BLUH-BLUH-WOO-WAAH!"
    "I'll just wait here a bit, then, shall I?"
    "WIB B LE-B LIDDE R-WO -WO -HAH-WAAH!"
    So Sir Lancelot sat on his horse and waited. No one can cry forever, and when at last the lady had used up all her tears, Sir Lancelot asked again, "Can you tell me what is distressing you?"
    "It's my ... my fal-fal-falcon!" the lady gasped.
    Now in those days, noble lords and ladies used
to train falcons to hunt for them. They kept them on leashes, then set them free to hunt small birds. A well-trained falcon—that is, one that would come back—was quite valuable.

    "What happened to your falcon, my lady?"
    "It flew away! It was a gift from my husband," the woman wailed, beginning to cry again. Not all falcons were well trained.
    "I'm sorry to hear it, my lady," said Sir Lancelot. "I wish I could help you."
    "Would you?" the woman exclaimed, her tears stopping at once.
    "Er ... if I could," Sir Lancelot replied. "But how? I can't chase a falcon through the sky."
    "Oh, you don't have to chase her at all," the woman said, smiling brightly. "She's right up there!" The woman pointed up. There at the top of the oak tree was a falcon, her leash tangled in the small branches.
    "Oh," said Sir Lancelot.
    "You said you'd help," the woman reminded him.

    "Er ... yes, I did. The thing is, it's rather hard to climb trees in armor."
    "Can't you take your armor off?" the woman asked. She sniffled.
    Sir Lancelot frowned. He had just had his armor shined and didn't like to leave it lying around. Then he sighed. "Of course, my lady."
    Twenty minutes later, his armor and sword stacked neatly beside a bush, Sir Lancelot began climbing the tree. While he climbed, he wondered how to untangle an angry falcon from a tree without getting pecked, but soon he saw what to do. Coming to the branch where the bird was tangled, he simply broke it off at the base and tossed the whole branch free. Bird and branch fluttered and crashed to the ground, and Sir Lancelot wiped his brow with relief.
    "Ha-ha, Sir Lancelot the Great!" shouted a gruff voice. Sir Lancelot looked down. Things had changed below. The crying woman was gone, and in her place stood an armored knight with a drawn sword. "Pretty neat, hey?" the knight crowed.

    "I beg your pardon?" Sir Lancelot replied.
    "I got you to take off your armor and put away your sword! Now you're helpless, and when I've slain you, I, Sir Phelot, will be known as the greatest knight in England!"
    "Sir Phelot?"

    "That's right," the knight replied. "Sir Phelot the Great."

    "Pleased to meet you," Sir Lancelot murmured. "So all this business with the falcon was a trick?"
    "That's right," Sir Phelot said. "Clever, hey?"
    "And that lady was your wife?"
    "Don't be silly. She's an actress. I've already paid her and sent her off."
    "An actress?" repeated Sir Lancelot admiringly. "She's very good, isn't she?"
    "Yes, yes," Sir Phelot said curtly. "And now I have you! Come down from that tree and face your doom!"
    Sir Lancelot looked at Sir Phelot for a long moment, then stretched out on a sturdy branch. "No," he said.
    "What do you mean, 'no'?" Sir Phelot demanded.
    "I'm comfortable," said Sir Lancelot. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.
    "Oh, for heaven's sake," Sir Phelot said. "What
ever do you think you're doing? You can't stay up in that tree forever!"

    "Why not?"
    "Well, you'll get hungry, for one thing," Sir Phelot said.
    "So will you," Sir Lancelot pointed out.
    Sir Phelot frowned over this for a moment. If he left the tree to get food, Sir Lancelot would get away. "Well ... you have to sleep sometime."
    Sir Lancelot only smiled.
    "Oh, stop being so childish!" snapped Sir Phelot, stamping his foot. "You know perfectly well that you have to come down eventually."
    Sir Lancelot ignored him. Licking his lips, he began to whistle softly, trying to remember a song that he had heard from a minstrel at King Arthur's court.
    "What's that noise?" Sir Phelot