The dragon was licking his scales and rubbing them with a bit of
house-flannel the Boy's mother had lent him, till he shone like a
great turquoise.

"Don't be VIOLENT, Boy," he said without looking round. "Sit
down and get your breath, and try and remember that the noun
governs the verb, and then perhaps you'll be good enough to tell
me WHO'S coming?"

"That's right, take it coolly," said the Boy. "Hope you'll be
half as cool when I've got through with my news. It's only St.
George who's coming, that's all; he rode into the village half-
an-hour ago. Of course you can lick him--a great big fellow like
you! But I thought I'd warn you, 'cos he's sure to be round
early, and he's got the longest, wickedest-looking spear you ever
did see!" And the Boy got up and began to jump round in sheer
delight at the prospect of the battle.

"O deary, deary me," moaned the dragon; "this is too awful. I
won't see him, and that's flat. I don't want to know the fellow
at all. I'm sure he's not nice. You must tell him to go away at
once, please. Say he can write if he likes, but I can't give him
an interview. I'm not seeing anybody at present."

"Now dragon, dragon," said the Boy imploringly, "don't be
perverse and wrongheaded. You've GOT to fight him some time
or other, you know, 'cos he's St. George and you're the dragon.
Better get it over, and then we can go on with the sonnets. And
you ought to consider other people a little, too. If it's been
dull up here for you, think how dull it's been for me!"