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The producers have not cabined themselves by letter-reverence to the script. They have gone on inventing, adding to the details of the fantasy, just as Mark Twain would have delighted in doing: the knights storming the castle of Queen Morgan Le Fay use submachine guns and ride in Austin cars; an autogiro arrives to rescue King Arthur; the tilt between Sir Boss (Will Rogers) and Sir Sagramor is an nounced in the manner of the modern prize-ring and broadcast by a whiskered radio man who begins McNamically: "Well, here we are at .Camelot. . . ." In this tilt Will Rogers, on a cow-pony, cuts figures around the knight on his lumbering charger and finally yanks him off with a rope and drags him round the field as western ranchers used to drag a horse-thief when they caught one. Will Rogers' deliberate awkwardness, his sham ble, mock shyness and ability on horse back, are all ideal for the role, and it does not matter that his drawl is Oklahoma in stead of Connecticut. His personality and his multifarious activities have made him by this time, even to Americans, a figure symbolic of American ism. Next best part : dignified old William Farnum, the hero of many a two-fisted thriller some ten years ago, as King Arthur.