the best I love,
Sing hey my frisking Nan, O,
And that which most my soul doth move,
It is the clinking can, O.

"All other bliss I'd throw away,
Sing hey my frisking Nan, O,
But this_--"

The stout Cobbler got no further in his song, for of a sudden six
horsemen burst upon them where they sat, and seized roughly upon the
honest craftsman, hauling him to his feet, and nearly plucking the
clothes from him as they did so. "Ha!" roared the leader of the band
in a great big voice of joy, "have we then caught thee at last, thou
blue-clad knave? Now, blessed be the name of Saint Hubert, for we are
fourscore pounds richer this minute than we were before, for the good
Bishop of Hereford hath promised that much to the band that shall bring
thee to him. Oho! thou cunning rascal! thou wouldst look so innocent,
forsooth! We know thee, thou old fox. But off thou goest with us to have
thy brush clipped forthwith." At these words the poor Cobbler gazed all
around him with his great blue eyes as round as those of a dead fish,
while his mouth gaped as though he had swallowed all his words and so
lost his speech.

Robin also gaped and stared in a wondering way, just as the Cobbler
would have done in his place. "Alack-a-daisy, me," quoth he. "I know
not whether I be sitting here or in No-man's-land! What meaneth all this
stir i' th' pot, dear good gentlemen? Surely this is a sweet, honest
fellow."

"'Honest fellow,' sayst thou, clown?" quoth one of the men "Why, I tell
thee that this is that same rogue that men call Robin Hood."

At this speech the Cobbler stared and gaped more than ever, for there
was such a threshing of thoughts going on within his poor head that his
wits were all befogged with the dust and chaff thereof. Moreover, as
he looked at Robin Hood, and saw the yeoman look so like what he knew
himself to be, he began to doubt and to think that mayhap he was the
great outlaw in real sooth. Said he in a slow, wondering voice, "Am I
in very truth that fellow?--Now I had thought--but nay, Quince, thou art
mistook--yet--am I?--Nay, I must indeed be Robin Hood! Yet, truly, I had
never thought to pass from an honest craftsman to such a great yeoman."

"Alas!" quoth Robin Hood, "look ye there, now! See how your
ill-treatment hath curdled the wits of this poor lad and turned them all
sour! I, myself, am Quince, the Cobbler of Derby Town."

"Is it so?" said Quince. "Then, indeed, I am somebody el