William The Outlaw by Richmal Crompton

persuasively, ‘it’ll soon wash off an’ it would be awfully nice if you got the prize,
Georgie.’
    ‘All right,’ said Georgie relenting, ‘but only a little , mind.’
    ‘Oh, yes, Georgie,’ said William, ‘only a little . . . ’
    They plastered his bead and face with mud from the pond and dropped a goodly portion of it upon his blouse. Fortunately Georgie could not see his upper half very well.
    ‘You’re only putting a little on, aren’t you?’ he asked anxiously.
    ‘Oh, yes, Georgie,’ William reassured him, ‘only a little. Now you look lovely. You look jus’ like King John after he’d been tryin’ to find his things
in the Wash – divin’ in for ’em an’ all . . .’
    Certainly the perfect little gentleman was unrecognisable. His suit was covered with mud, his hair was caked with mud, his face was streaked with mud. He had waded in mud. His smile, though
still there, was almost invisible. No longer did his curls glint in the sun.
    ‘Now let’s start, shall we?’ said William, his spirits rising as he gazed at his handiwork. ‘First of all I’ll go on with Ginger – we’re your heralds
you know – and we’ll say you’re coming; “Make way for King John” or somethin’ like that. Then you come on with Henry and Douglas and you speak to ’em. You
know what King John said to ’em in History, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, of course I do,’ said Georgie. ‘What did he say?’
    ‘He just looked at ’em an’ said, “Oh Dam and Blarst (their names, you know) I cannot find my things”.’
    ‘Of course I knew he said that.’
    ‘Well, you jus’ say that to ’em and – shall we start? I say, Georgie, you do make a fine King John.’
    ‘Oh, I bet I’ll win the prize all right,’ said Georgie complacently from beneath his mud.
    The grown-ups sat in an expectant semicircle, smiling indulgently.
    ‘I do so love to see little children acting,’ said one, ‘They’re always so sweet and natural.’
    ‘I wish you’d seen Georgie last Christmas,’ murmured Georgie’s mother, ‘as Prince Charming in a little children’s pantomime we got up. I had his photograph
taken. I’ll show it to you afterwards.’
    Just then William and Ginger appeared. They had replaced their stockings and shoes and looked for William and Ginger unusually neat and tidy.
    ‘Well, dears,’ said Mrs Murdoch smiling, ‘have you chosen your little scene yet?’
    ‘No,’ said William, ‘we can’t get on with it with Georgie messin’ about the pond all the time.’
    At that moment Georgie, imagining that William and Ginger had heralded his approach with all ceremony, came proudly into view from behind the bushes, followed by Douglas and Henry. The mud from
the pond was a peculiarly concentrated kind of mud and Georgie had wallowed in it from head to foot. One could only guess at his white suit and glinting curls. But through it shone Georgie’s
eyes in rapturous anticipation of a two pound box of chocolate creams.
    William and Ginger gazed at him in well simulated horror.
    ‘Oh, Georgie, you naughty boy!’ said William.
    ‘What will your mother say!’ said Ginger.
    Douglas and Henry stepped forward.
    ‘We told him not to,’ said Douglas.
    ‘We knew you wouldn’t like it,’ said Henry to the speechless Mrs Murdoch.
    Georgie felt that something had gone wrong somewhere but he was determined to do his part at any rate to win those chocolate creams.
    He looked at Henry and Douglas. ‘Oh, Dam and Blarst—’ he began, but the uproar drowned the rest.
    With a scream of horror audible a mile away Mrs Murdoch seized the perfect little gentleman by the arm and hurried him indoors.
    Georgie explained as best he could. He explained that he was meant to be King John returning from the Wash and that Dam and Blarst were his two servants. But explanations were
unavailing. No explanation could wipe out from the memories of those present that astounding picture of Georgie Murdoch standing in the