Long ago, when the knights lived in the land, there was one knight whose name was Sir George.

He was not only braver than all the rest, but he was so noble, kind, and good,

that the people came to call him Saint George.

No robbers ever dared to trouble the people who lived near his castle,

and all the wild

animals were killed or driven away, so little children could play, even in the woods, without

being afraid.

One day, St. George rode throughout the country.

Everywhere he saw the men busy at their work in the fields, the women singing at work

in their homes, and the little children shouting at their work in the fields, the women singing at work in their homes, and the little

children shouting at their play. These people are all safe and happy. They need me no more,

said St. George. But somewhere, perhaps, there is trouble and fear. There may be some place where

little children cannot play in safety. Some woman may have

been carried away from her home. Perhaps there are even dragons left to be slain. Tomorrow,

I shall ride away and never stop until I find work which only a knight can do. Early the next morning,

St. George put on his helmet and all his shining armor, and fastened his sword at his side.

Then he mounted his great white horse and rode out from his castle gate.

Down the steep, rough road he went, sitting straight and tall, and looking brave and strong as a knight should look.

On through the little village at the foot of the hill, and out across the country he rode.

Everywhere he saw rich fields filled with waving grain, everywhere there was peace and plenty.

He rode on and on, until at last he came into a part of the country

he had never seen before. He noticed that there were no men working in the fields. The houses

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