table-cloths, made richly caparisoned steeds; and Patricia's imagination
easily supplied the riders.

At first the Knights and their horses were ranged together at one end of
the room.

"You are Front-de-B[oe]uf," the child announced, laying her hand upon
the first overturned chair; "and you are Bois-Guilbert, and you
Malvoisin. We ought to have some others, but there aren't any more
table-covers."

Then she moved Front-de-B[oe]uf into the centre of the arena.

"You stay there 'til I get my shield and lance," she said, and the
war-like Knight made no protest.

Patricia next appeared with an open umbrella dexterously held in front
of her, and a heavy cane belonging to her father in her hand.
Front-de-B[oe]uf may have been intimidated by the militant figure which
approached him, but he stood his ground bravely.

"I'm the Disinherited Knight," Patricia announced to the assembled
multitude, pausing a moment to receive their enthusiastic plaudits.

"Largesse, largesse, gallant Knights!" she cried, boldly. "That means
that I'm bigger than any one else," she explained. "Love of the
Ladies--Glory to the Brave!"

With this ample notice of her intentions, the Disinherited Knight
charged Front-de-B[oe]uf with a frenzy which resulted in his utter