At first the Knights and their horses were ranged together at one end of the room.

“You are Front-de-B[oe]uf,” the child announced, laying her hand upon the first overturned chair; “and you are Bois-Guilbert, and you Malvoisin.  We ought to have some others, but there aren’t any more table-covers.”

Then she moved Front-de-B[oe]uf into the centre of the arena.

“You stay there ’til I get my shield and lance,” she said, and the war-like Knight made no protest.

Patricia next appeared with an open umbrella dexterously held in front of her, and a heavy cane belonging to her father in her hand.  Front-de-B[oe]uf may have been intimidated by the militant figure which approached him, but he stood his ground bravely.

“I’m the Disinherited Knight,” Patricia announced to the assembled multitude, pausing a moment to receive their enthusiastic plaudits.

“Largesse, largesse, gallant Knights!” she cried, boldly.  “That means that I’m bigger than any one else,” she explained.  “Love of the Ladies—­Glory to the Brave!”

With this ample notice of her intentions, the Disinherited Knight charged Front-de-B[oe]uf with a frenzy which resulted in his utter disgrace.  The trappings were torn from his steed by the fury of the onslaught, the horse itself was overthrown, and Patricia surveyed the carnage with the utmost satisfaction.

“We shall meet again, I trust, where there is none to separate us,” she said, solemnly.

A truce was declared while she dragged Bois-Guilbert into the lists.

“To all brave English hearts and to the confusion of foreign tyrants,” was the war-cry, and in a moment more Bois-Guilbert had shared the fate of his predecessor.  This time, however, the Disinherited Knight did not escape unscathed, as the front foot of the adversary’s steed made a dismal rent in her umbrella shield.

Malvoisin alone remained, and he in turn took his stand against the redoubtable champion.  But Malvoisin, contrary to history as Patricia knew it, proved the most stubborn adversary of the three.  The heralds had not properly cleared away the debris from the tilting-field, so when the Disinherited Knight forced Malvoisin back, Bois-Guilbert supported him from behind.  Patricia had found the other two so yielding that she was unprepared for this unexpected defence, and the result of her attack was the complete demolition of the umbrella and a bad fall for herself, in the course of which her lance struck the glass door of a bookcase standing near.

The noise of the fall, together with the crash of glass, brought Riley rushing to the room.  Patricia recognized his indignation without need of explanation.  Forgetful of her bump, she again seized the cane, and repeating her cry, “To the confusion of foreign tyrants,” she charged the old man with such vigor that he stepped aside with astonishing agility, allowing her to pass him into the hall.  This was all that the now thoroughly frightened Patricia desired to accomplish.  Dropping the cane, she rushed into the bedroom, and retreated underneath the bed, whither she well knew Riley’s infirmities would not permit him to follow.