Read Pig Latin--Not Just for Pigs! Online
Authors: Kate McMullan
Pig Latin--Not Just for Pigs! (3 page)
“Gorzil?” said Janice. She turned to Erica. “Is that not the dragon you and Wiglaf slew?”
Erica nodded.
“I—I once knew a minstrel who sang such a song,” said Wiglaf.
Just then a man in a feathered cap stepped onto the path before them, strumming a lute and singing to himself. He looked up.
“Can it be?” he exclaimed. “Wiglaf of Pinwick?”
Wiglaf gasped. “Minstrel! How glad I am to see you!”
Wiglaf introduced the minstrel to his friends. He told them how the minstrel had come to Pinwick during a winter snowstorm. He needed a place to stay and, for a while, lived in their pigsty.
“Hello, Daisy!” said the minstrel, looking down at the pig. “Still the finest, pinkest pig in all the land.”
Daisy blushed, turning even pinker.
“The minstrel taught me how to read and write,” Wiglaf said. “And how to wiggle my ears.” He gave a little demonstration.
“News of your deeds has reached me, Wiglaf,” said the minstrel. “You slew Gorzil and Seetha!”
“Both by accident,” Wiglaf confessed.
“Be not so modest.” The minstrel smiled. “I said you were born to be a mighty hero.”
Wiglaf felt his face grow warm.
“I have just put you into one of my songs,” said the minstrel. He strummed and sang:
Gorzil was a dragon, a greedy one was he,
From his jaws of terror, villagers did flee.
Gorzil burped up clouds of smoke,
Shot lightning from his snout,
Then one day came a hero,
Who found his secret out.
The hero’s name is Wiglaf.
He’s small yet he is bold.
He slew the dragon Gorzil,
With knock-knocks knocked him cold!
From his jaws of terror, villagers did flee.
Gorzil burped up clouds of smoke,
Shot lightning from his snout,
Then one day came a hero,
Who found his secret out.
The hero’s name is Wiglaf.
He’s small yet he is bold.
He slew the dragon Gorzil,
With knock-knocks knocked him cold!
Everyone clapped.
Erica muttered, “That’s not exactly the way I remember it.” But she clapped, too.
The minstrel swept off his feathered cap and bowed.
“Thank you, Minstrel,” Wiglaf said. “‘Tis a fine honor to be in your song.”
“Do you really tell fortunes?” asked Janice.
“That I do,” said the minstrel. “Hold out your palm, lass.” He traced its lines with his finger. “Let me see now...this crease crosses that line. Hmmm. Oh, wait. I see it clearly now. Very soon you shall meet a wizard.”
“Oh, boy!” Janice turned to Erica. “Why did you not tell us there is a wizard at the palace?”
“Because there isn’t one.” Erica shrugged. “My fairy godmother used to keep a small apartment in the palace, but she left for good when I turned five.”
“If I am wrong,” said the minstrel, “it will be the first time.”
“My turn.” Angus held out his hand.
“What a nice plump palm!” exclaimed the wizard. He studied it for a while and said, “You shall say nay to fresh-baked pie.”
“Never!” cried Angus. “Pie is my favorite dessert—especially cherry pie.”
“I read what I see,” the minstrel said. “In truth, I do not always understand it myself.”
Erica held out her palm.
The minstrel hardly seemed to glance at it. “Clear as a bell,” he said. “You shall see spots before your eyes.”
“Spots?” Erica looked annoyed. “That, Minstrel, is not much of a fortune.”
Wiglaf knew that Erica had hoped to hear the minstrel say she would become a great hero like Sir Lancelot. But seeing spots? He agreed with Erica. It was not much of a fortune.
Now Daisy stepped up to the minstrel and held up her right front hoof.
“Daisy, dear pig,” the minstrel said. “I am a palm reader. But if you wish me to read your hoof, well, why not?” He held her hoof in his hand. He bent close to examine it. His eyes grew suddenly wide. He took a step back, dropping Daisy’s hoof.
“Egad-yay!”
cried Daisy.
“Is-yay it-yay adbay?”
cried Daisy.
“Is-yay it-yay adbay?”
The minstrel looked worried.
“What did you see, Minstrel?” cried Wiglaf.
“I saw...” the minstrel began. But he stopped and smiled a shaky smile. “Prithee, a hoof is not a palm. I saw nothing.” He picked up his lute. “I must go,” he said. “And quickly. Or I shall be late for the Toenail Fair.”
He bent toward Wiglaf. “Keep a close eye on your pig,” he whispered. Then he turned and called, “Farewell! Farewell!” and headed east on the rocky path.
“Farewell, Minstrel!” Wiglaf called back.
He knelt down and put his arms around his pig. What fortune had the minstrel seen in Daisy’s hoof? He shivered. He could not stand it if anything should happen to his dear Daisy.
Chapter 5
W
iglaf’s spirits were low as he and the others trooped on through the Dark Forest.
Was this a shortcut?
he wondered. It seemed more like a longcut.
iglaf’s spirits were low as he and the others trooped on through the Dark Forest.
Was this a shortcut?
he wondered. It seemed more like a longcut.
Then, without warning, a raspy voice spoke from behind a clump of bushes: “Sssssssssssstop!”
Wiglaf’s heart began to pound. He clutched Daisy to him.
“Who—who said that?” called Erica.
“The name issss Basssil,” said the voice. “I need assssisssstancccce.”
“Show yourself!” said Janice. “Then we shall decide if we will help you.”
“Ah, that issss a problem,” said Basil. “For if you sssssee me, you shall perish.”
“Perish?” squeaked Wiglaf. “As in die?”
“Yessss,” said Basil. “That issss correct. You will die. For I am a bassssilissssk. Perhapssssss you have heard of my kind?”
“I have,” said Wiglaf. He had checked out every book on monsters in the DSA library. “You have a scaly body, short legs, clawed feet, wings too small for flying, a long tail, and the head of a chicken.”
“I prefer ‘head of a roosssster,’ ” said Basil. “But you got the resssst right. And what issss your name?”
“Wiglaf,” said Wiglaf. “If a basilisk steps on a stone,” he went on, “the stone splits in two.”
“Insssstantly,” said Basil.
“So that explains all the broken rocks we saw,” said Erica.
“Basilisks have a great treasure, known as Basilisk Gold,” Wiglaf continued.
“Yesssss,” said Basil proudly. “We bassssilissssks are very rich.”
The basilisk also had really bad breath, but Wiglaf felt it would be rude to mention it.
“Let me get this straight,” said Angus. “If we look at you, we die?”
“Ssssadly sssso,” said Basil. “And the ssssame ssssad fate awaitssss any creature I look upon—except for another bassssilissssk.”
“Egad!” cried Wiglaf.
“Don’t be sssscared,” said Basil. “I wear dark glassssessss sssso my sssstare won’t hurt you.”
“Oh, good,” Angus said in a shaky voice. “Keep those glasses on, Basil.”
“I wandered into the Dark Foresssst by misssstake,” Basil went on. “With thesssse glasssssesssss on, I cannot sssssee a thing, sssso I am losssst. If you will kindly lead me out of the foressst, I shall be able to find my dear Ssssophie.”
“Who is Sophie?” asked Wiglaf.
“Ssssophie isssss a beautiful bassssilissssk,” said Basil. “Too bad it would kill you to sssee her. The feathered cressst on her head issss sssssspectacular.”
“I have a rope with me,” said Wiglaf. “If you hold one end while we walk ahead, I can lead you out of the forest.”
“You are a geniussss, Wiglaf!” cried Basil.
Wiglaf held one end of the rope and walked ahead with the others. He felt a tug.
“Got it!” called Basil from behind. “Promisssse to sssstay with me until we get out of the Dark Foresssst?”
“I promise,” said Wiglaf.
Wiglaf led the basilisk through the murky Dark Forest. At last they came to a bridge. Far below roared the Swamp River.
“Here we are at the Swinging Bridge!” said Erica. “Once we cross it, we shall be out of the Dark Forest. And very near the palace.”
“Yay!” cried Angus. “Supper time!”
Wiglaf squinted at the bridge through the dim light. Why, it was no more than wooden planks set across ropes. He took a few steps closer. He saw that the wooden planks looked rotten, and the ropes were frayed.
“Here I go!” said Erica. The bridge swung wildly as she went across, her heavy trunk bumping along behind her.
Wiglaf shut his eyes. He could hear planks cracking and breaking. “Be careful,” he told Janice, who went next.
“I can use my lance for balance,” she said. But as she teetered across—
Crrrrack
! More of the planks split in two and plummeted into the racing river below.
Crrrrack
! More of the planks split in two and plummeted into the racing river below.
Angus stepped up to the bridge. He gulped, then drew a deep breath. “Cherry pie and whipping cream...cherry pie and whipping cream,” he chanted as he made his way across.
Daisy trotted over the bridge behind him.
Now it was Wiglaf’s turn. Half of the bridge was gone. He took a deep breath. “Ready, Basil?” he said.
“I’m sssscared,” Basil said from behind. “The bridge will ssssnap under ussss. And my wingssss are usssselessss, sssso I cannot fly. We will have to crosssssss thissssss river ssssome other way.”
“But the only other way is to...swim,” said Wiglaf.
“Very well,” said Basil. “We shall sssswim. But I cannot ssssee, remember? You will have to ride on my back and be my eyessss.”
“Ride...on your back?” cried Wiglaf.
“No, Wiggie!” Erica cried out to him from the far side of the river. “Don’t do it! It is too dangerous!”
How Wiglaf wanted to dash across the bridge to his friends! Yet he had promised the basilisk. He could not leave him stranded in the Dark Forest. In a shaky voice he said, “Let us swim, Basil.”
“We’ll be on the riverbank!” called Erica.
Wiglaf’s friends ran down to the river.
“Closssse your eyessss, Wiglaf,” Basil said.
Wiglaf closed his eyes. His heart was racing. He felt the cold scaly monster come up beside him. He managed to throw a leg over the basilisk’s back.
“Hold on to my neck,” said Basil.
Wiglaf put his arms around the basilisk’s neck. It felt dry and scaly, like Worm’s neck. Thinking of the young dragon calmed him. He held on tight.
Basil lumbered down to the river’s edge.
“Brrrrr!” he said. “It‘ssss freezzzing! Only a lovesssick fool would do thissss! Ssssophie, ssssweetheart, here I come!”
SPLASH! Basil plunged into the dark waters of the Swamp River. Wiglaf felt the basilisk paddling like a dog in the swift current. His eyes popped open. At first all he could see was splashing water. Then he sat up straighter, peering ahead, and saw the shore.
“Yikes!” cried Wiglaf. “We’re drifting downstream. Swim to the right, Basil. Swim!”
Basil paddled madly to the right.
“Hold steady now!” Wiglaf shouted.
Basil basilisk-paddled on. At last they reached the far shore.
“Ssssafe at lasssst!” cried Basil as he lumbered out of the water and onto dry land.
Wiglaf closed his eyes and slid off the basilisk’s back.
“Thank you, Wiglaf,” said Basil. “Now I shall go find Sssophie.”
“Farewell, Basil,” said Wiglaf, keeping his back to the basilisk. “I wish I could see you.”
“Me too,” said Basil. “I am a very handsssssome bassssilisssk. At leassst that issss what Ssssophie ssssays. If we have a brood of bassssilisssk chickssss, I shall sssuggesssst that we name one after you.”
Wiglaf smiled. A little monster named Wiglaf!
He kept his eyes closed, listening as Basil scuttled away. Then all was quiet.
“Basil?” he called. “Are you here?”
No answer came.
Wiglaf opened his eyes. The basilisk was gone. His own rope lay coiled at his feet. And inside the coil lay a six-sided golden coin. A piece of Basilisk Gold!
Chapter 6
I
s the coast clear?“ asked Erica, popping up from behind a bush.
s the coast clear?“ asked Erica, popping up from behind a bush.
“Yes,” said Wiglaf. “Basil has gone. And look what he left behind.”
Erica and the others turned around. They stared at the gold coin.
Angus gasped. “It must be worth a fortune!”
“There is something special about Basilisk Gold,” Wiglaf said. It had to do with
“twenty-four,”
he thought as he picked up the coin.
Did only twenty-four basilisks know where the Basilisk Gold was hidden? Or maybe the coins were pure, 24-karat gold, like the gold that Albon the Alchemist made.
Wiglaf could not quite remember.
“twenty-four,”
he thought as he picked up the coin.
Did only twenty-four basilisks know where the Basilisk Gold was hidden? Or maybe the coins were pure, 24-karat gold, like the gold that Albon the Alchemist made.
Wiglaf could not quite remember.
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