"I feared the rain that threatened," said Little John in a sullen tone,
for he was vexed at being so chaffed by Robin with what had happened to
him.

"The rain!" cried Robin, stopping of a sudden in the middle of the road,
and looking at Little John in wonder. "Why, thou great oaf! not a drop
of rain has fallen these three days, neither has any threatened, nor
hath there been a sign of foul weather in earth or sky or water."

"Nevertheless," growled Little John, "the holy Saint Swithin holdeth the
waters of the heavens in his pewter pot, and he could have poured them
out, had he chosen, even from a clear sky; and wouldst thou have had me
wet to the skin?"

At this Robin Hood burst into a roar of laughter. "O Little John!" said
he, "what butter wits hast thou in that head of thine! Who could hold
anger against such a one as thou art?"

So saying, they all stepped out once more, with the right foot foremost,
as the saying is.

After they had traveled some distance, the day being warm and the road
dusty, Robin Hood waxed thirsty; so, there being a fountain of water as
cold as ice, just behind the hedgerow, they crossed the stile and came
to where the water bubbled up from beneath a mossy stone. Here, kneeling
and making cups of the palms of their hands, they drank their fill,
and then, the spot being cool and shady, they stretched their limbs and
rested them for a space.