that. I wun't mind doin' it an' you could be my squire."

"Yes," said Ginger slowly, "I'd thought of doin' it, but I'd thought
of _you_ bein' the squire."

"Well," said William after a pause, "let's be squires in turn. You
first," he added hastily.

"Wot'll you give me if I'm first?" said Ginger, displaying again the
base commercialism of his age.

William considered.

"I'll give you first drink out of a bottle of ginger-ale wot I'm goin'
to get with my next money. It'll be three weeks off 'cause they're
takin' the next two weeks to pay for an ole window wot my ball slipped
into by mistake."

He spoke with the bitterness that always characterised his statements
of the injustice of the grown-up world.

"All right," said Ginger.

"I won't forget about the drink of ginger-ale."

"No, you won't," said Ginger simply. "I'll remind you all right. Well,
let's set off."

"'Course," said William, "it would be _nicer_ with armour an' horses
an' trumpets, but I 'spect folks ud think anyone a bit soft wot went