"How now, brothers," cried Robin, "be merry! nay, never count over your
farthings, for by this and by that I will pay this shot myself, e'en
though it cost two hundred pounds. So let no man draw up his lip, nor
thrust his forefinger into his purse, for I swear that neither butcher
nor Sheriff shall pay one penny for this feast."

"Now thou art a right merry soul," quoth the Sheriff, "and I wot thou
must have many a head of horned beasts and many an acre of land, that
thou dost spend thy money so freely."

"Ay, that have I," quoth Robin, laughing loudly again, "five hundred and
more horned beasts have I and my brothers, and none of them have we been
able to sell, else I might not have turned butcher. As for my land, I
have never asked my steward how many acres I have."

At this the Sheriff's eyes twinkled, and he chuckled to himself. "Nay,
good youth," quoth he, "if thou canst not sell thy cattle, it may be I
will find a man that will lift them from thy hands; perhaps that man may
be myself, for I love a merry youth and would help such a one along the
path of life. Now how much dost thou want for thy horned cattle?"

"Well," quoth Robin, "they are worth at least five hundred pounds."

"Nay," answered the Sheriff slowly, and as if he were thinking within
himself, "well do I love thee, and fain would I help thee along, but
five hundred pounds in money is a good round sum; besides I have it not
by me. Yet I will give thee three hundred pounds for them all, and that
in good hard silver and gold."

"Now thou old miser!" quoth Robin, "well thou knowest that so many