ormerly shown in hunting them. Where, now, is that outlaw
known as Little John? Stand forth!"

"Here, sire," quoth the giant, doffing his cap.

"Good master Little John," said the King, looking him over approvingly.
"Could your weak sinews stand the strain of an office in the shire? If
so, you are this day Sheriff of Nottingham; and I trust you will make a
better official than the man you relieve."

"I shall do my best, sire," said Little John, great astonishment and
gladness in his heart.

"Master Scarlet, stand forth," said the King; and then addressing him:
"I have heard somewhat of your tale," quoth he, "and that your father
was the friend of my father. Now, therefore, accept the royal pardon and
resume the care of your family estates; for your father must be growing
old. And come you to London next Court day and we shall see if there be
a knighthood vacant."

Likewise the King called for Will Stutely and made him Chief of the
Royal Archers. Then he summoned Friar Tuck to draw near.

"I crave my King's pardon," said the priest, humbly enough; "for who am
I to lift my hand against the Lord's anointed?"

"Nay, the Lord sent the smiter to thee without delay," returned Richard
smiling; "and 'tis not for me to continue a quarrel between church and
state. So what can I do for you in payment of last night's hospitality?
Can I find some fat living where there are no wicked to chastise, and
where the work is easy and comfortable?"

"Not so, my lord," replied Tuck. "I wish only for peace in this life.
Mine is a simple nature and I care not for the fripperies and follies
of court life. Give me a good meal and a cup of right brew, health, and
enough for the day, and I ask no more."

Richard sighed. "You ask the greatest thing in the world,
brother--contentment. It is not mine to give or to deny. But ask your
God for it, an if belike he grant it, then ask it also in behalf of your
King." He glanced around once more at the foresters. "Which one of you
is Allan-a-Dale?" he asked; and Allan came forward. "So," said the King
with sober face, "you are that errant minstrel who stole a bride at
Plympton, despite her would-be groom and attending Bishop. I heard
something of this in former days. Now what excuse have you to make?"

"Only that I loved her, sire, and she loved me," said Allan, simply;
"and the Norman lord would have married her perforce, because of her
lands."

"Which have since been forfeited by the Bishop of