central fire filled the hovel. Their hosts produced a decoction of
honey, called mead, of which a little went a long way, and soon
they were all quite convivial.

"Canst thou not sing a song, Stephen, like a gallant troubadour
from the land of the sunny south, to reward our hosts for their
entertainment?"

And Stephen sang one of the touching amatory ballads which had
emanated so copiously from the unfortunate Albigenses of the land
of Oc. The sweet soft sounds charmed, although the hosts understood
not their meaning.

"And now, my lad, have not thy parents taught thee a song?" said
the knight, addressing the boy.

"Sing thy song of the Greenwood, Martin," added the mother.

And the boy sang, with a sweet and child-like accent, a song of the
exploits of the famous Robin Hood and Little John:

Come listen to me, ye gallants so free,
All you that love mirth for to hear;
And I will tell, of what befell,
To a bold outlaw, in Nottinghamshire.

As Robin Hood, in the forest stood,
Beneath the shade of the greenwood tree,
He the presence did scan, of a fine young man,
As fine as ever a jay might be.