“Look here, dragon,” interrupted the Boy, a little jealous on behalf of his friend, who seemed to be getting all the worst of the bargain: “I don't quite see where YOU come in! There's to be a fight, apparently, and you're to be licked; and what I want to know is, what are YOU going to get out of it?” “St. George,” said the dragon, “Just tell him, please,--what will happen after I'm vanquished in the deadly combat?” “Well, according to the rules I suppose I shall lead you in triumph down to the market-place or whatever answers to it,” said St. George. “Precisely,” said the dragon. “And then--” “And then there'll be shoutings and speeches and things,” continued St. George. “And I shall explain that you're converted, and see the error of your ways, and so on.” “Quite so,” said the dragon. “And then--?” “Oh, and then--” said St. George, “why, and then there will be the usual banquet, I suppose.” “Exactly,” said the dragon; “and that's where _I_ come in. Look here,” he continued, addressing the Boy, “I'm bored to death up here, and no one really appreciates me. I'm going into Society, I am, through the kindly aid of our friend here, who's taking such a lot of trouble on my account; and you'll find I've got all the qualities to endear me to people who entertain! So now that's all settled, and if you don't mind--I'm an old-fashioned fellow--don't want to turn you out, but--” “Remember, you'll have to do your proper share of the fighting, dragon!” said St. George, as he took the hint and rose to go; “I mean ramping, and breathing fire, and so on!” “I can RAMP all right,” replied the dragon, confidently; “as to breathing fire, it's surprising how easily one gets out of practice, but I'll do the best I can. Goodnight!” They had descended the hill and were almost back in the village again, when St. George stopped short, “KNEW I had forgotten something,” he said. “There ought to be a Princess. Terror-stricken and chained to a rock, and all that sort of thing. Boy, can't you arrange a Princess?” The Boy was in the middle of a tremendous yawn. “I'm tired to death,” he wailed, “and I CAN'T arrange a Princess, or anything more, at this time of night. And my mother's sitting up, and DO stop asking me to arrange more things till tomorrow!”