Sir Kay heard the news when he was polishing his helmet.

“Arthur!” he called out. Arthur was once again by the woods, feeding birds from his hand. He set down seeds for the birds, and a pile for the squirrels. Then he ran fast to see his brother.

“There you are!” said Kay. “There will be a tournament in London. We must leave at once!”

What great news! Arthur had never been more than a few miles from home. He would be the best squire ever for his brother! Arthur ran back to the house. In the courtyard, his father was getting the horses ready.

Sir Ector and his two sons rode through London on their way to the tournament. Riding through the market square, something shiny glinted in the sun. “That sword looks like it goes right into that stone,” said Arthur. “But how can that be? That’s impossible.” But why were guards standing all around it?

The father and his two sons reached the tournament. Sir Kay ran off to get in line to register. Sir Ector greeted many old friends – dukes, earls, barons, counts and countesses. Arthur sat in their tent, polishing his brother’s helmet till it shone bright.

A trumpet sounded. The tournament was about to begin! “Get my sword”, demanded Kay”

“Right away,” said Arthur. But where was it? Arthur looked around in panic. Kay’s spear, battle-axe, and dagger were right where they should be. But no sword. “Kay…” he said, “how about a battle-axe?”

“Where is my sword?!”

“I'll have it in a moment!” said Arthur.

“Be quick!” said Kay.

Arthur ran back into the tent. Maybe he had left Kay’s sword there? He searched through the bag of armor and weapons. How could he let such a thing happen? Then he had an idea.

Very fast, Arthur rode back to the market square. The guards were not there anymore – they must have all gone to the tournament.

Arthur stepped up on the marble block. “Let’s see if that sword can get unstuck.” He took hold of the handle of the sword. He moved the sword a bit. “Hey!” he said. “It’s looser than I thought.”

With one big tug, the sword slid out.

Arthur was thrown back, but the sword was safe in his hands. “I will be sure to bring it right back.” He raced to where his brother was waiting.

“Here it is,” he said, handing the sword to his brother.

Kay took one look. “Oh!” he said in surprise.

“What is it?” said Arthur. But his brother was gone. Soon after, he heard his brother’s voice outside the tent. “Father, I have something to show you.” Kay and his father stepped inside the tent.

“Look!” said Kay. He pointed to the sword.

Sir Ector stared. His face turned white. “Kay,” said the father, facing his older son, “where did you get this sword?”

“It is mine!” said Kay, holding it close to him. “I have it now.”

“Kay!” said the Father again in a stern voice. “I will ask you one more time. Where did you get this sword?”

The young knight’s head dropped down.

“From Arthur,” he said. “He lost my sword! Somehow he got me this one.”

“Arthur?” The father turned to his younger son. “How is it that you came by this sword?”

“I’m sorry!” said Arthur. “Father, I will put it back right away. I only meant to borrow it when I pulled it from the stone.”

“You must take us to where you found this sword. At once!” The three of them rushed over to the market square.

Arthur climbed up onto the marble block. “It came from here,” he said. He lifted the sword over his head.

Then he dropped the blade back into the stone. “Now it’s back.”

“Hey,” said Sir Kay. “I still need a sword!” He jumped up onto the marble block. Grabbing the hilt of the sword, he pulled and pulled. But it did not move.

Kay shouted to Arthur, “What did you do to it?”

“Nothing!” said Arthur.

“You must have done something!” yelled Sir Kay.

“Quiet! Both of you!” said the father. “It is better if no one sees or hears us.”

But it was too late. A crowd had already started to form.

“Hey! Did you pull that sword out of the stone?” called one.

“Yes,” said Arthur. “I did.”

“Do it again!” called another from the crowd.

“Yes, let’s see it!”

Arthur put his hands around the golden handle. With one tug, the blade slid out.

“Who are you?” called another voice. “What’s your name?”

“Arthur”

“Wait a minute, put that sword back!” A tall knight pushed forward from the crowd. “Anyone can pull it out, once it’s been pulled!”

“Go ahead. Put it back, son,” said a voice. It was the Duke of Cornwall, the one who had called for the tournament.

“All right,” said Arthur. He slipped the blade back into the stone, with ease.

“Let me try now!” said the tall knight. He jumped up and grabbed the handle of the sword. But pull and tug as he much as he could, the sword would not move. Not even a bit.

Another knight tried. Then another. But no one could move the sword. Some waited, thinking the longer they pulled the sword, the looser it would get. But when each man took their turn, the sword did not move for them.

“Let the boy try now,” said the Duke of Cornwall. “Arthur, go ahead.”

Arthur stepped up to the stone again. In one move he freed the sword. This time, he held it high above his head. The blade flashed in the sun. Amazed, the crowd did not know what to think.

One called out at last. “He must be our new king!”

“We have a king!” called another. “At last!”

“Stop!” shouted the tall knight. “Do you really think this skinny, little boy should rule over all of us?”

“Yes!” said a voice. All eyes turned around. It was Merlin the Magician.

“I know this boy. I know his heart. There is no one in England who has a heart that is bigger and stronger than his. The sword has told us this young man is to be the next king of England. And there is something else!”

“The boy,” said Merlin, pointing to Arthur, “is the true child of King Uther. He is the missing baby!”

Cheers began to ring out. “God Save King Arthur!” called someone from the crowd.

Sir Ector fell to his knees. Then Sir Kay. One person after another fell to their knees, too. All cheered. At last, a king had been chosen. A fresh young king, and a new day for England!

The end.