Sir Percival recovered from his astonishment and prepared to do what seemed the only fitting thing to in a case like this. He heaved up his lance to smite this gay young man to the earth.
“For shame!” The young man had dexterously leapt out of the way and crouched down with Sylvia and Joe caught to his bosom. “Would you strike a child?”
“Malapert insect!” said Sir Percival. “Unhand those young ones that I may cudgel you.”
“Listen to reason!” bellowed the other, now grovelling on the earth. “This castle is deserted, and I alone know where the larder is. Without my help you will go away an hungered!”
“There is something in that,” said Sir Percival, lowering his lance.
“There is a whole lot in it,” shouted Gorbo. “Don’t hit the poor man!”
The jester bounded up like a tennis ball and flew at Gorbo, enfolding him in his arms. “By this kiss” (kissing him daintily on the top of his head) “I swear eternal friendship.”
“Lead on, thou nimble loon,” said Sir Percival. “I pardon you if you will take us to the larder without delay.”
The jester turned swiftly to the children. “You see yonder door,” he said, pointing to a small open door in the main building of the castle, “I’ll give you a start of half-way and race you there. Are you ready? Go!”
Sylvia and Joe went off at top speed, and when they were half-way the jester gave a shrill whoop and flew after them, catching up with them just as they reached the door.