hem a taint of the wild. John was much
interested, in spite of the fact that he considered it "a mean trick."
It really does not seem quite fair to take excellent, kindly care of
any animal or bird, allow it to believe you are its friend, and then
to suddenly turn it loose and proceed to hunt it for mere sport.

In strange contrast to the merry drive through Sherwood Forest, was a
little incident which occurred in a village on the edge of "The
Dukeries" district, where they halted to water the horses. On one side
of the quaint main street is a row of old, old houses, where for many
years have lived the aged people who are usually provided for by the
nobleman to whom that village belongs.

All the tiny houses were empty at the time of this visit, with the
exception of one where lived a dear old lady, by herself, her
neighbors having all died. Mrs. Pitt went in to call upon her, as do
most strangers passing through here, and was touched by her pathetic
speech. She said they were simply waiting to tear down the houses
until she should go, and looking tearfully up into Mrs. Pitt's face,
added: "I'm eighty-six years old now, and I won't last much longer,
but I can't go until the Lord calls me, can I?" In spite of this, she
insisted that she was quite happy, for she had her "good feather
bed,"--and what more could she need?

The following morning, the party went by train to Nottingham, where
they spent a short time in exploring. The present town is much like
others, except in its legendary connection with Robin Hood. All
visitors might not find it as fascinating as did Mrs. Pitt and the
young people, who knew it as the abode of the disagreeable Sheriff
whom Robin Hood heartily hated, and upon whom he continually played so
many tricks, always evading punishment most successfully. They
pictured the gay procession of soldiers and knights which accompanied
King John when he entered that city, as the Sheriff's guest; and to
them the old market-square (the largest in all England) suggested the
scene of Robin Hood's masquerade as a butcher. There they halted and
imagined him standing beside his booth, and calling out: "Now who'll
buy? who'll buy? Four fixed prices have I. Three pennyworths of meat I
sell to a fat friar or priest for sixpence, for I want not their
custom; stout aldermen I charge threepence, for it doth not matter to
me whether they buy or not; to buxom dames I sell three pennyworths of
meat for one penny, for I li