In the courtyard of Castle Camelhot, Flicker was adding sticks and leaves to a tower of wood at least five times taller than he was. It was almost dark as he flew to the top of the structure and put on the last few things. When he fluttered back down to earth, Sir Blaze and Sir Burnevere were emerging from the castle, Sir Blaze looking particularly excited.

'Is it ready?' he asked.

'I think it'll have to be, don't you?' said Flicker, gazing up at his handiwork.

'Aye, 'twill be a fine blaze,' said Burnevere.

'Ooh,' said Blaze, 'I can hardly wait for us to set fire to all the Georges and watch them burn! Did you make one, Flicker?'

'I made Sir Loungelot's,' said Flicker. 'I haven't really had time to make another one for myself.'

'Oh,' said Blaze, with a sympathetic look, 'what a shame!'

'You've always found time to make one before,' said Burnevere.

'It's all right,' said Flicker, looking at Blaze. Then he looked at Burnevere, and said, 'I was younger then, but this year… well, I woke up one morning, and I thought about all the work I had to do, and I decided I could probably do without. I mean, you only end up burning them, don't you? Having a George is never as important as when you're a child - even to you, Sir Blaze, I'm sure.'

'Well,' said Blaze, 'I may have got a little more excited about it in my dim and distant youth, but I still love it! Someone telling the story of the Dragon and St. George, and then everyone setting fire to their Georges, and all eating coffee-apples round a great big roaring bonfire…'

'It is better with children, though,' said Burnevere. 'I remember telling the story on the first St. George's Day that the Princess stayed up for the bonfire. I can still see her wee face as she hung on my every word, a look of wonder in her saucer-like eyes… When I'd finished, she asked me a very good question. She asked why, if George was so bad, he was ever made a saint.'

'That is a good question,' said Flicker. 'Why was he?'

'He was canonised by humans, Flicker,' said Burnevere. 'Remember that stories are passed down through word of mouth, and along the way they're embellished and added to - even changed completely. No doubt the humans thought they were doing right when they branded the Dragon as the evil one. Poor misguided souls.'

'This is nice, isn't it?' said Blaze, as he smiled up at the unlit bonfire. 'All the gang together.'

'What gang, Sir Blaze?' asked Flicker.

'Oh, you know - the gang who went around questing together when Galahot and Hotbreath were away.'

'We are missing one, Blaze,' said Burnevere.

'Are we?' Blaze looked puzzled for a moment, and then he realised. 'Oh yes. Well, we're the best ones, aren't we? Now, I'm off to bed. The sooner I get to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will come. Nighty-night!'

He made an excited little noise, clapped his hands together, then turned and skipped into the castle.

'It's true, you know,' said Burnevere. 'St. George's Day is for bairns. Well, I'm sure that one day there'll be children in Camelhot again. Goodnight, Flicker.'

With that, Burnevere turned and followed Blaze into the castle. Flicker stood with his back to the bonfire, not noticing as someone crept out from behind it and stole out of the castle grounds.

Count Geoffrey stood in the doorway of Threadbare Castle, watching as, across the moat, his three Evil Knights directed several serfs to form a bridge.

'All right, that's enough!' Count Geoffrey called across to them. 'Let's test it. Come over here.'

Evil Knights Numbers One, Two and Three walked over the serfs all at once, causing them to cry out in pain and discomfort, but not one of them lost his grip.

'Excellent!' said Geoffrey, as the knights filed past him. 'I don't know why I was so worried about needing a new drawbridge.'

'How will we close it, dread Count Geoffrey?' asked Evil Knight Number Two.

'Hmm.' Geoffrey twirled his moustache thoughtfully. 'Perhaps some kind of serf rope mechanism? Ah, but we may not have to worry about that for too long. Here comes my Evil Spy to tell me how I can get my hands on Camelhot.'

The Evil Spy ran across the serf drawbridge, causing it to cry out again, and then began whispering in Count Geoffrey's ear.

'I know it's St. George's Day tomorrow!' snapped Geoffrey, and his spy reeled back in alarm. 'That's even worse than when you came back with the news that it was Griddle's birthday. Heh-heh-heh. Remember that? I pushed you into the moat, and the crocodiles… Oh, wait, that was my last Evil Spy. Well, what else? That better not be all!'

The Evil Spy whispered again into Geoffrey's ear.

'Hmm.' Geoffrey walked through to his throne room, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he went, his four henchmen following him. 'So those dragons think the dragon of the story killed St. George, do they?'

'I heard it was actually St. Michael who killed the dragon,' said Evil Knight Number Three.

Count Geoffrey paused, about to sit on his throne, and his eye twitched with irritation. 'You heard what?'

'A woman in the village told me that St. Michael actually killed the dragon. Everyone thinks it was St. George, but that's a myth.'

'The whole story is a myth, you fool!' said Geoffrey. 'There wasn't really a dragon.'

'How do you know that, dread Count Geoffrey?' asked Evil Knight Number One.

'Yeah, boss, how do you?' said Evil Knight Number Two. 'It's not like there's no such thing as dragons or anything.'

'I know because all those stupid stories are myths,' said Geoffrey. 'They start with competitive types all showering together in a men's locker room, making stuff up to try and convince each other they're big brave heroes.'

As he finished speaking, there came a flash of lightning and a puff of smoke. Merle the Wizard had arrived.

'You seem to know a lot about what goes on in men's locker rooms, Geoff,' she said.

'That's because I work out,' said Geoffrey. 'What do you want, you ugly old crone?'

'Well,' said Merle, 'I couldn't help overhearing, and I thought I should correct you. St. George really did fight a dragon.'

'But Merle,' said Evil Knight Number Three, 'this woman in the village told me -'

'Was this woman in the village there?' snapped Merle.

'Obviously not,' said Geoffrey. 'Were you there, Merle?'

'Sure I was. Georgie was a friend of mine. Nice fella. Great kisser. Of course I had to drug him first, being so old and warty.'

'Really?' said Geoffrey. 'Weren't you ever young?'

'Maybe once,' said Merle, 'a long time ago. Well, anyway, that was all I wanted to say. I'll be going now.'

'No, wait,' said Geoffrey. 'If this St. George guy really did kill a dragon… Wait, did he win? According to my Evil Spy, those Camelhotians think the dragon killed him.'

'Well,' said Merle, 'it was a little more complicated than that. I don't think you want me to tell you - it'll spoil the illusion. You just enjoy the story the way you know it.'

'Fine,' Geoffrey said shortly. 'Either way, this St. George sounds like just the guy I need to empty Camelhot for me. If he killed the dragon, he has a proven track record. If not, he'll have a taste for revenge. Or at least he will have when I'm through with him.'

'But isn't St. George dead, dread Count Geoffrey?' asked Evil Knight Number Two.

Geoffrey frowned at him. 'Of course he is, you fool.'

'But then…' said Evil Knight Number Three, scratching his head.

'We have a wizard, you bunch of numbskulls!'

'Whoa, wait a minute, Geoff,' said Merle. 'If you're talking about bringing someone back from the dead, that's a huge undertaking.'

'Are you saying you're not powerful enough to do it?' asked Geoffrey.

'Well,' said Merle, 'of course I'm not saying that. It's just that it might take a while. Let's not forget that Georgie's body will have rotted away by now, and without that for him to come home to…'

'I'm not letting you take a while,' said Geoffrey. 'In fact, I want it done in the next twenty-four hours. It has to be St. George's Day.'

'Why does it have to be St. George's Day?' asked Evil Knight Number One. 'He could kill those dragons any time he was here, couldn't he?'

'Sure, I guess,' said Geoffrey, 'but where's the poetic justice in that? No, it has to be St. George's Day night, when those dragons are having their bonfire… and what's more… yes! I know how to do it. I take back what I said, Evil Spy - your information is proving most useful. I've picked up enough about dark magic from you, Merle, to understand a little about how these things work. I have a plan!'

The sun had risen, and Princess Flame was taking an effigy of St. George into the throne room. She found King Allfire and Queen Griddle both there, deep in conversation, but they stopped when they saw her.

'What do you think, Stepmother?' asked Flame, holding up the George. 'Will he do?'

'Perfectly, dear!' said Griddle. 'We did well there, didn't we? Who's a clever little seamstress, then?'

'Now then, Stepmother,' said Flame, holding her smile, 'remember I'm not a child.'

'Och, but that's a bonny George you have there, Your Highness!' came in ringing tones from behind Flame.

'You know, Sir Burnevere,' she said, 'Daddy - I mean - Father and I were talking just the other day about how I've grown up so much lately.'

'Sorry, Milady,' said Burnevere. 'You see, it was only last night that I was talking to someone about how St. George's Day is better with bairns, and remembering how much fun it all was when you were a wee girl.'

'Oh,' said Griddle, 'I know! Won't it be fun when there are children in Camelhot again, Flame? You know, dear, people are beginning to wonder -'

'Stepmother, please, not now!'

'Come along, dear,' said Allfire, getting to his feet. 'Why don't we put George on the bonfire? Are you coming, Puff?'

'No thank you, Daddy,' said Flame, handing her father the George as he passed her. 'It doesn't take three of us. I'll just set fire to him this evening.'

'Very well,' said Allfire, as he led Griddle from the room. 'I'll see you later, then.'

'Bye,' said Flame, looking a tad disgruntled.

'Ehm…' said Burnevere. 'Did I bring up a delicate subject, Milady? I'm very sorry.'

'Oh, it's all right, Sir Burnevere,' said Flame. 'Stepmother Griddle was in matchmaking mode anyway. I'm pretty sure she's planning some sort of occasion. She was on about finding the Minstrel the other day, and look at this.' She went to Griddle's throne, rummaged around behind it and pulled out a scroll. 'She's even making a list of eligible… maidens? Oh, but that must mean…'

'Coo-ee!'

The voice wafted in from the corridor outside. Flame jumped, dropping the parchment. It rolled across the floor, carried by the weight of its wooden rollers. She ran after it, picked it up and threw it out of the window just as Sir Blaze entered the room, carrying a snazzily dressed George of his own.

'Mumsey not here?' he asked. 'I wanted to show her my George. He's spiffing, don't you think?'

'Lovely,' said Flame. 'Stepmother Griddle's outside, putting our George on the bonfire. I'm sure she'll be blown away by that one, Blaze.'

'It is rather good, isn't it?' said Blaze, gazing lovingly at the effigy. 'I did wonder if his jacket clashed a little bit with his cravat, but - good heavens!'

He was staring at something directly behind Flame. She turned and saw a small dragon girl on the window ledge, dressed in a ragged brown dress and holding out Griddle's scroll, which was now sopping with moat water.

'Excuse me,' said the girl. 'You dropped this.'

'Oh yes, so I did,' said Flame, grabbing the scroll and stuffing it down the front of her dress. 'Where did you come from?'

'Just outside,' said the girl.

'Oh, right. And… before that?'

'Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?' The girl hopped down into the room. 'I'm here now.'

'Why?' asked Blaze. 'If you don't mind me asking, dear.'

'Not at all,' said the girl. 'I just had a feeling that I needed to be here. For St. George's Day, you know.'

'A bairn come for St. George's Day!' said Burnevere. 'Och, how bonny!'

'Now, hold on a minute,' said Flame. 'Your parents will worry about you.'

'That's all right,' said the girl. 'I haven't any.'

'Oh,' said Flame, 'you poor thing!'

'But someone must look after you,' said Blaze.

'I look after myself,' said the girl.

'But you're just a little girl,' said Flame. 'If no one looks after you, then you must stay with us for longer than just St. George's Day.'

The little girl looked doubtful. 'Well…'

'What's your name?'

'Puff.'

Flame's eyebrows rose in surprise. 'Puff?'

'That's right.'

'Well, Puff,' said Sir Burnevere, 'as it's St. George's Day, I suggest the first thing you do is make yourself a George to burn. I'm sure the Princess will be glad to help you.'

'Let Flicker help,' said Blaze. 'He hasn't made one.'

'That's because he's been very busy, Sir Blaze,' said Burnevere.

'Well,' said Flame, 'I can ask him.'

'Then he'll do it,' said Blaze. 'Gosh, how exciting! I'll go and see if I can find any more old clothes with a bit of pizzazz!'

Blaze ran off. Flame reached down her front, pulled out the sodden parchment and put it back behind Griddle's throne.

'We'll be stopping at my room on the way up, Puff,' she said. 'I've just put a lot of moat water all down my front.'

Some time later, Flicker, Flame and Puff were kneeling on the floor of Flicker's workshop, stuffing straw into a purple garment of some kind.

'Are you sure you won't want to wear this again, Flicker?' asked Flame.

'Quite sure,' said Flicker. 'I never really liked this one, to be honest. So, Puff…'

'Yes?' said Puff.

'Are you sure you don't just want to give us a little hint about where you've come from?'

'Why? Don't you trust me, Flicker?'

'Well, I don't know,' said Flicker. 'The last time a child turned up on our doorstep, it turned out to be a mole.'

'What,' said Flame, 'a mole like a rodent?'

'No.' Flicker stood up, went to a chest and started rummaging through it. 'A mole like Sir Agraflame.'

'Oh, a mole like Sir Agraflame,' said Flame. 'When was this?'

'A while ago. You and Queen Griddle had gone off somewhere.'

Flicker returned to the work station with a small sack, a large cabbage, a handful of white stuff, a red bobble-hat and a pair of black woollen gloves.

'I'm afraid this is all I've got,' he said, placing the items on the floor. 'I don't really go in for trousers. Nor woolly hats, really, but I seem to have this one lying around.'

'Let's see what Blaze comes up with,' said Flame, as she stuffed the cabbage into the small sack. 'He's worn everything you can wear at one time or another.'

Flicker picked up the white stuff, tore some off and handed it to Puff, saying, 'Wool cotton. I invented it to mop up battle wounds, but it makes great stuffing as well.'

Flicker and Puff each began stuffing a glove, while Flame set to work sewing the cabbage-in-a-sack onto Flicker's purple jumper.

'You and your three-quarter-length sleeves, Flicker,' said Flame. 'He's going to have awfully short arms.'

'Well,' said Flicker, 'I suppose we could lengthen them with a bit of old sacking or something.'

'That doesn't matter,' said Puff. 'He's going to look brilliant. And in answer to your question, Flicker, I came a long way.'

'Oh,' said Flicker, surprised to have received any answer at all. 'How long?'

'Further than you travelled to come here. I've heard the stories too, you know, of Camelhot and the Square Table.'

'How do you know so much about my coming here?' asked Flicker.

'Well,' said Puff, 'it's obvious, isn't it? What else would a young man of principles be doing here?'

'So you know I'm principled as well.'

'If you weren't, you wouldn't be making a George with me when you've got important work to do. I only know what I've heard about this place. Camelhot stands for all that is good and true. It is where noble knights and their king gather around the Square Table where, each side being of equal length, every seat is at the head, to show that all men are equal.'

'But not all women, unfortunately,' said Flame.

'That is unfortunate,' said Puff. 'If I was a boy, I might have liked to be a page here so I could learn the noble arts of knighthood, and then gone on to be a squire and eventually a knight. But I could never have done that, because I'm only a girl.'

'Girls are quite as good as boys,' said Flicker. 'But knighthood is very dangerous, Puff, and we are sworn to protect our ladies.'

'Who says we need protecting?' said Flame.

'The Code of Chivalry.'

'I had to ask.'

'I think the Code of Chivalry is a wonderful thing,' said Puff. 'I think it's so wonderful that, if things change - just, you know, generally - the Code will change with them. Maybe one day women will be considered just as worthy of getting their brains bashed in as men.'

As she finished speaking, the door flew open, and Sir Blaze danced in holding up a pair of sparkly silver trousers and polka-dot socks.

'Your fashion consultant has arrived!' he said. 'What do you think?'

'Fabulous, Sir Blaze,' said Puff, grinning as she took the socks from him.

'Move over.' Blaze helped himself to a position on the floor, between Flicker and Flame. 'I'm a dab hand at sewing.'

Some time later, the four dragons had finished making their George. When Blaze burnt off his last length of thread, the effigy had acquired a jacket and bowtie, and a pair of sandals large enough to fit the feet of a male dragon.

'So long, Sir Delores,' said Flicker.

Blaze looked up. 'Sir Delores? Why do you bring her up all of a sudden?'

'No reason,' said Flicker. 'There, I think he looks pretty good, don't you?'

'May I take him out to the bonfire now?' asked Puff, smiling sweetly at Flame.

'Of course you can, sweetheart,' said Flame.

'I'll take you,' said Blaze, jumping up eagerly. 'I do so love colour coordinating the Georges on the bonfire - it's like a little fashion show!'

Smiling, Puff grabbed Blaze's hand, and together they carried the George out of the room. Flicker and Flame were left kneeling on the floor together. They looked at each other, smiling, then began to get up.

'My knees are stiff,' said Flame. 'I must be getting old.'

'Mine are all right,' said Flicker.

'Yes, well, you're in tip top physical condition, aren't you?'

'Oh, well… I wouldn't say that.'

'I would,' said Flame, bringing spots of red to Flicker's cheeks. She decided to change the subject. 'So, how are you these days?'

'Can't complain,' said Flicker. 'You?'

'Oh, all right. I've just got something on my mind - you know how it is.'

'Is it anything I can help you with?'

'Not at all,' said Flame, 'but I'll tell you anyway. Stepmother Griddle is organising a royal ball. At first I thought it was for me - you know, to get me married and making heirs - but then I found she'd made a list of eligible maidens.'

'Gosh,' said Flicker. 'Do you think…?'

Flame nodded. 'Blaze.'

'I suppose she wants him to continue Sir Herman's line.'

'Yes, I suppose she does too. Well… there's no need to worry, is there? Blaze might meet a nice girl, and… and want to marry her.' She did not sound convinced.

'Well,' said Flicker, 'we'll see what comes of that, but in the meantime, we've got more immediate things to worry about. Just where did Puff come from?'

'Outside,' said Flame. 'She flew through the window and said she wanted to be here for St. George's Day. When I asked about her parents, she said she didn't have any.'

'Oh no!' said Flicker. 'The poor girl.'

'It's funny, isn't it? Her name being Puff. That's what my father calls me.'

'Yes, I know.'

'It's like she's… connected to me in some way.'

'You mean you think she's your mother from the past or something?' asked Flicker.

Flame shook her head. 'Not my mother. I've only just gone and found out about her. If she was going to turn up as a small child, she'd have done it then, surely. No, you see, that Puff… well, she reminded me a lot of you, Flicker, when she was talking about the Code of Chivalry and the Square Table and everything.'

'She talked a bit like you as well, wanting women to be knights.'

'Well, she had a point.'

'Of course,' said Flicker. 'But I honestly think she's just a waif, Flame, and after tonight we're going to have to find something to do with her.'