Digory The Dragon Slayer

hammered away to make him a suit of armour out of some snips and scraps that were lying around in the smithy. The armour was quite a good fit, although it squeaked and had a bit of a handle on the back that looked suspiciously like part of a watering can. But her pièce de resistance was the helmet, on top of which she had welded the dragon’s tooth!
    When Digory put the armour on it felt cold and clammy inside. Maybe this is what shiverous means, he thought gloomily. But his mother was so proud she actually gave him a hug. (Although Digory, of course, couldn’t feel the hug inside his tin suit.)
    ‘Oh, it fits like a gauntlet, son!’ she sighed happily. ‘I suppose I could have built a couple of extra inches into the tin boots but, never mind, no one will notice when you are sitting on your horse.’
    All knights, of course, must have a horse for their adventures, and Squire Paunch kindly gave Digory a trusty steed. Barley the carthorse knew as much about adventures as Digory did about being a knight. She was old and gentle but she was deaf as a pumpkin. (Well, at least she won’t have to listen to Digory’s songs, Betsy thought to herself.)

ARISE, SIR DIGORY?

    The big day arrived. Digory woke up and pinched himself, but it was all real. He looked at Arthur and Tom snoring away like happy warthogs. Maybe I’ll just slip away , he thought. No one would really miss me. They could make Arthur a knight instead. He’d be much better at shiveriness than me...
    Digory didn’t have to think too long to decide that running away was, in fact, a very good idea. Quiet as a mouse, he wrote a note to Squire Paunch, explaining that he wanted his brother Arthur to be the knight instead. Then he packed everything he owned into his best handkerchief and tied it to the end of a stick.
    Whispering goodbye to his sleeping father, he crept quietly out of the cottage to make his escape. But at the door he met Betsy, who had been up all night polishing the armour.
    ‘Spit and elbow grease, nothing to beat it!’ she beamed. ‘Today’s the best day of my life, son. You’ve made me as proud as a big, brass bell!’
    Poor Digory smiled weakly. You can’t run away from that, can you?

    Squire Paunch had announced that day was to be a holiday, so the village was decked with flags and flowers and the inn served free ale and hog-roast.
    At midday, a procession arrived at Digory’s cottage. With a ring on her anvil Betsy sent Digory off, squeaking gently on toothless old Barley, to be knighted by Squire Paunch.
    In the square, the rest of the villagers had been waiting impatiently. Everyone cheered loudly when Digory arrived, but the Squire himself did not appear. They waited and waited. Digory shut his eyes and wished with all his heart that the Squire had changed his mind and gone fishing instead. However, the Squire eventually arrived in a great fluster, with a red face and drooping whiskers.
    The crowd hushed. They could tell something was wrong.
    ‘Hrrumph!’ the Squire began. ‘Mistresses, maids and fellows, my friends... um... after looking up the right and proper knighting ceremony,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid Mrs Squire and I have come upon a bit of a hitch.’ He twiddled his whiskers apologetically.’
    The puzzled villagers pushed forward to hear.
    ‘It seems... that is... the rules say... um... well... that only a King can make a knight!’ Everyone gasped, except Digory who breathed a huge sigh of relief. Saved at the last minute! he thought.
    ‘I’m sorry, Digory,’ said Squire Paunch. ‘It wouldn’t be right and proper, me being only a Squire, I’m afraid.’
    The crowd grumbled and booed. They were very disappointed.
    But Digory’s mother hadn’t spent a week making a suit of armour for nothing.
    ‘Only a Squire, my elbow!’ she shouted, jumping up on a barrel. ‘That’s not a problem. Why, we’ll make you a King, then you can get on with the knighting.’
    With great cheering, the whole village agreed that solved the problem perfectly. Digory’s heart sank again.
    ‘I haven’t got much work in the smithy at the moment,’ continued Betsy, ‘so I can make a crown by Tuesday. But, in the meantime, Arthur’s cap will crown you very nicely.’
    So, with no further delay, the Squire was crowned King Paunch of Batty-by-Noodle and his first royal duty was to perform the knighthood ceremony.
    Digory dismounted and knelt before the King, who struck him gently with a sword on both