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princesses and ate them. The Royal Champion’s job, among many, was to rescue princesses when-

ever they had been carried away by big dragons. Princess Nyssmah had yet to be carried away by

a big dragon, but should she ever be, it was the Royal Champion’s job to get her back uneaten.

Brophy, like his father, did not like Princess Nyssmah’s new pet. But for a different reason. He

did not like the Princess’ pet because he was spoiled. He wanted the dragon to be his pet. Since he

could not have the dragon himself, he decided that no one would have the dragon. So this is what

he did:

One day, when Princess Nyssmah and the dragon, who was bigger now, were playing, Brophy

ran to the Royal Champion and said, “Daddy! The dragon bit me!” The Royal Champion looked

at Brophy’s hand, which was indeed bitten (Brophy had bitten it himself), and took Brophy to the

King.

“Your daughter’s dragon has bitten my son,” the Royal Champion said to the King.

The King, who was busy sitting on his throne doing what kings do when they are busily sitting

on the throne, said to the Royal Steward, “Bring the Princess and the Dragon here at once.”

When the Princess and the Dragon arrived, the King asked, “Nyssmah, is it true that the drag-

on bit Brophy?”

The Princess glared at Brophy and said, “No, Daddy. The dragon was not even near Brophy.”

“Well, then,” the Royal Champion asked Princess Nyssmah, “how do you explain this?” He

showed her Brophy’s bitten hand.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe Brophy bit it himself.”

“Don’t be fresh!” said the King. (We all know that Brophy had bitten his own hand, but no one

else did.) The King took another look at Brophy’s bitten hand and said, “This is not too bad.

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