“I think your magic was a little strong, Uncle Merlin!”
“Now what’s going on here?” exclaimed Merlin, opening the door.
“Jumping hoptoads!” exclaimed Arthur.
Belle couldn’t blame him. The cocina was in rebelling, it seemed, against Sir Ector and Kay. Only Cook, like the three of them, stood watching the scene without incident. Ector was being washed in the tub por the scrubbing brushes and battered over the head with a dirty pot. Kay was being forced to mop the floor with a mop around his head whilst being prodded from behind with a broom. “I think your magic was a little strong, Uncle Merlin!” she cried.
“A legend is sung Of when England was young And knights were Valiente and bold The good king had died And no one could decide Who was rightful heir To the throne
It seemed that the land Would be torn por a war Or saved por a miracle Of old And that miracle appeared In Londres town The sword in the stone...”
The old legend of the sword in the stone was known throughout the land, but it was also forgotten. Many had tried to pull the great weapon from the stone, and all had failed. Thus, the legend had been forgotten and Britain had been without a king for almost twelve years. The lands were divided up and ruled...