“Arthur is my knight!”, Phillipa cheerfully declared when she stumbled into the kitchen. Cobb, looking up from his newspaper, took another bite of his toast. “Is he? Really?”
Arthur, still dressed in his professional manner, bowed down a little and lowered his voice, half laughing, half serious. “Your wish is my command, milady!” The sunlight was hitting him in all strange and weird and uneasy angles.
James, very sarcastically, rolled his eyes at them.
“Yes, he is!” Hands on her hips, she nodded twice.
“A knight”, Cobb repeated, carefully observing his (former) point man, “in a gray striped armour and polished leather shoes. I’m impressed. But Phillipa, isn’t your knight lacking some kind of ... transportation?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you, Daddy”, she smiled deviously, “you could be the horse!”
James accidentally snorted into his chocolate cornflakes.