Magic Tree House #49: Stallion by Starlight (A Stepping Stone Book(TM))

moving at full speed? Can he throw a spear farther than a grown man? Can he hunt a lion?”
    “No, and he never will,” Annie said. She smiled at the prince. “But Jack’s great at writing. He takes notes and he writes his own stories.”
    “Ah … ah!” said Alexander. He sprang to his feet. “Forgive my rudeness,” he said to Jack. “I would like to talk with you alone. Perhaps you
can
help me.”
    Uh-oh,
thought Jack.
    The prince looked at his father. “May we go?”
    Please
say
no,
thought Jack. Alexander made him nervous.
    But King Philip nodded. “We hate to lose your company,” he said to Jack, “but it would be good for you to counsel my son.”
    “Yes, indeed. Come with me, small visitors from Frog Creek,” said Alexander, beckoning to Jack and Annie.
    Jack glanced at Aristotle.
    The philosopher looked nervous, too, but he smiled encouragingly and nodded, as if to say,
Be
brave. Dare again to make fools of yourselves.

A s they followed Alexander, Jack wished he hadn’t shown off. What if the prince challenged him to mount a moving chariot? Or hunt a lion? As he followed Alexander out of the room, Annie hurried along with him.
    Prince Alexander strode ahead through the courtyard. He led Jack and Annie to a covered porch behind the house.
    “So, what would you like us to do for you?” asked Annie, smiling.
    Alexander gazed down at her. “Well, I wouldlike a girl to do nothing for me,” he said. “You should be with the other females, cooking and spinning.”
    The smile left Annie’s face. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go back in and hang out with Aristotle.” She started back through the door.
    “I’ll go, too,” said Jack, eager to get away from the arrogant prince.
    “Halt!” barked Alexander. He looked at Annie. “I will endure you awhile longer. You boast that your brother likes to write things down? Well, now he has something very important to write about: me! Do you have something to write with?” he asked Jack.
    “Sure.” Jack pulled out his notebook and pencil.
    “When you return to your own country, your writing could bring me lasting fame there,” said Alexander.
    “You bet,” said Jack. Writing was easy, he thought. Mounting a moving chariot wasn’t.
    “We will walk and talk,” the prince ordered.“Come.” Jack and Annie followed Alexander off the porch, stepping into the hot sunlight.
    The prince led them through a garden overlooking the hillside. On a plateau near the bottom of the slope was a long barn with a riding ring.
    “You said Hercules is a favorite hero of yours,” the prince said. “Did you know he is my great-great-grandfather?”
    “Who? Hercules?” asked Annie.
    “Yes. And since he is a son of Zeus, I am a living Greek god myself,” said Alexander.
    Whoa,
thought Jack. He rolled his eyes.
    “You mock me?” Alexander asked.
    “No, no, I just got some dust in my eyes,” said Jack. He rubbed his eyes.
    “A living Greek god,” said Annie. “Write that down, Jack.”
    “Of course,” said Jack. But he wrote:
    This guy’s a raving nut.
    Annie read Jack’s notes and snickered.Alexander turned and looked at her.
    Annie tried to change her snicker into a snort. “Sorry, got some dust up my nose,” she said, scratching her nose.
    The prince kept walking and talking. “This means, of course, that when I go to war, I will never lose a battle. Soon I will be master of the universe.”
    “Cool,” said Jack. But he wrote:
    This guy should be locked up.
    Annie glanced at Jack’s notes and stifled a laugh. Alexander looked at her again.
    “Dust in my throat,” she said. She coughed.
    Alexander kept walking. “You said you went to the Olympics in Greece?” he said. “Well, so have I.”
    “Were you competing?” said Jack.
    “Of course not. I never compete with other athletes,” the prince said wearily. “I would win every time. I am the greatest living athlete in the world.”
    “Amazing,” said Jack. But he wrote:
    What a show-off! He could never have friends.
    Jack looked up. “More?” he said.
    “First I would like to see all you have written so far,” said the prince.
    “You would?” said Jack, gulping.
    “Yes.”
    “Uh—but I’m not finished,” said Jack. “I don’t like to show my writing until I’ve gotten all my notes together.” He closed his notebook and started to put it in his bag.
    “I want to read it
now
,” said the prince, snatching the notebook. He opened it and looked at Jack’s notes.