this: That a duty which seemeth to us sometimes ugly and harsh, when we do kiss it fairly upon the mouth, so to speak, is no such foul thing after all.”
“Methinks thou art right,” quoth Robin, “and, contrariwise, that when we kiss a pleasure that appeareth gay it turneth foul to us; is it not so, Little John? Truly such a thing hath brought thee sore thumps this day. Nay, man, never look down in the mouth. Clear thy pipes and sing us a ditty.”
“Nay,” said Little John, “I have none as fair as that merry Arthur has trolled. They are all poor things that I know. Moreover, my voice is not in tune to-day, and I would not spoil even a tolerable song by ill singing.”
Upon this all pressed Little John to sing, so that when he had denied them a proper length of time, such as is seemly in one that is asked to sing, he presently yielded. Quoth he, “Well, an ye will ha’ it so, I will give you what I can. Like to fair Will, I have no title to my ditty, but this it runs.” Then clearing his voice he sang:—“O Lady mine, the spring is here,
With a hey nonny nonny;
The sweet love season of the year,
With a ninny ninny nonny;
Now lad and lass
Lie in the grass
That groweth green
With flowers between.
The buck doth rest,
The leaves do start,
The cock doth crow,
The breeze doth blow,
And all things laugh in—”
Little John beginneth a goodly song, but doth not finish it.
“Who may yon fellow be coming along the road?” said Robin, breaking into the song.
“I know not,” quoth Little John, in a surly voice. “But this I do know, that it is an ill thing to do to check the flow of a good song.”
“Nay, Little John,” said Robin, “be not vexed, I prythee; but I have been watching him coming along, bent beneath that great bag over his shoulder, ever since thou didst begin thy song. Look, Little John, I pray, and see if thou knowest him.”
Little John looked whither Robin Hood pointed. “Truly,” quoth he, after a time, “I think yon fellow is a certain young miller I have seen now and then around the edge of Sherwood; a poor wight, methinks, to spoil a good song about.”
“Now thou speakest of him,” quoth Robin Hood, “methinks I myself have seen him now and then. Hath he not a mill over beyond Nottingham Town, nigh to the Salisbury road?”
“Thou art right; that is the man,” said Little John.
“A good stout fellow,” quoth Robin. “I saw him crack Ned o’ Bradford’s crown about a fortnight since, and never saw I hair lifted more neatly in all my life before.”
By this time the young miller had come so near that they could see him clearly. His clothes were dusted with flour, and over his back he carried a great sack of meal, bending so as to bring the whole weight upon his shoulders, and across the sack was a thick quarterstaff. His limbs were stout and strong, and he strode along the dusty road right sturdily with the heavy sack across his shoulders. His cheeks were ruddy as a winter hip, his hair was flaxen in color, and on his chin was a downy growth of flaxen beard.
“A good honest fellow,” quoth Robin Hood, “and such an one as is a credit to English yeomanrie. Now let us have a merry jest with him. We will forth as though we were common thieves and pretend to rob him of his honest gains. Then we will take him into the forest and give him a feast of such as his stomach never held in all his life before. We will flood his throat with good canary and send him home with crowns in his purse for every penny he hath. What say ye, lads?”
“Truly, it is a merry thought,” said Will Scarlet.
“It is well planned,” quoth Little John, “but all the saints preserve us from any more drubbings this day! Marry, my poor bones ache so that I—”
“Prythee peace, Little John,” quoth Robin. “Thy foolish tongue will get us both well laughed at yet.”
“My foolish tongue, forsooth,” growled Little John to Arthur a Bland. “I would it could keep our master from getting us into another coil this day.”
But now the Miller, plodding along the road, had come opposite to where the yeomen lay hidden, whereupon all four of them ran at him and surrounded him.
“Hold, friend!” cried Robin to