ers pouches
and bags of different sizes and kinds, a dozen or more, with great,
wide, gaping mouths, like a brood of hungry daws. His coat was gathered
in at his waist, and was patched with as many colors as there are
stripes upon a Maypole in the springtide. On his head he wore a great
tall leathern cap, and across his knees rested a stout quarterstaff of
blackthorn, full as long and heavy as Robin's. As jolly a beggar was he
as ever trod the lanes and byways of Nottinghamshire, for his eyes were
as gray as slate, and snapped and twinkled and danced with merriment,
and his black hair curled close all over his head in little rings of
kinkiness.

"Halloa, good fellow," quoth Robin, when he had come nigh to the other,
"what art thou doing here this merry day, when the flowers are peeping
and the buds are swelling?"

Then the other winked one eye and straightway trolled forth in a merry
voice:

"_I sit upon the stile,
And I sing a little while
As I wait for my own true dear, O,
For the sun is shining bright,
And the leaves are dancing light,
And the little fowl sings she is near, O_.

"And so it is with me, bully boy, saving that my doxy cometh not."

"Now that is a right sweet song," quoth Robin, "and, were I in the right
mind to listen to thee, I could bear well to hear more; but I have two
things of seriousness to ask of thee; so listen, I prythee."

At this the jolly Beggar cocked his head on one side, like a rogue of a
magpie. Quoth he, "I am an ill jug to pour heavy things into, good
friend, and, if I mistake not, thou hast few serious words to spare at
any time."

"Nay," quoth jolly Robin, "what I would say first is the most serious of
all thoughts to me, to wit, 'Where shall I get somewhat to eat and
drink?'"

"Sayst thou so?" quoth the Beggar. "Marry, I make no such serious
thoughts upon the matter. I eat when I can get it, and munch my crust
when I can get no crumb; likewise, when there is no ale to be had I wash
the dust from out my throat with a trickle of cold water. I was sitting
here, as thou camest upon me, bethinking myself whether I should break
my fast or no. I do love to let my hunger grow mightily keen ere I eat,
for then a dry crust is as good to me as a venison pasty with suet and
raisins is to stout King Harry. I have a sharp hunger upon me now, but
methinks in a short while it will ripen to a right mellow appetite."

"Now, in good sooth," quoth merry Robin,