was that halfscore of tall, stout yeomen, all clad in Lincoln green,
lying beneath the broad-spreading branches of the great oak tree, amid
the quivering leaves of which the sunlight shivered and fell in dancing
patches upon the grass.

Suddenly Robin Hood smote his knee.

"By Saint Dunstan," quoth he, "I had nigh forgot that quarter-day cometh
on apace, and yet no cloth of Lincoln green in all our store. It must be
looked to, and that in quick season. Come, busk thee, Little John! Stir
those lazy bones of thine, for thou must get thee straightway to our
good gossip, the draper Hugh Longshanks of Ancaster. Bid him send us
straightway twenty-score yards of fair cloth of Lincoln green; and mayhap
the journey may take some of the fat from off thy bones, that thou hast
gotten from lazy living at our dear Sheriff's."

"Nay," muttered Little John (for he had heard so much upon this score
that he was sore upon the point), "nay, truly, mayhap I have more flesh
upon my joints than I once had, yet, flesh or no flesh, I doubt not that
I could still hold my place and footing upon a narrow bridge against
e'er a yeoman in Sherwood, or Nottinghamshire, for the matter of that,
even though he had no more fat about his bones than thou hast, good
master."

At this reply a great shout of laughter went up, and all looked at Robin
Hood, for each man knew that Little John spake of a certain fight that
happened between their master and himself, through which they first
became acquainted.

"Nay," quoth Robin Hood, laughing louder than all. "Heaven forbid that