Then Allan a Dale came forth and tuned his harp, and all was hushed around, and he sang in his wondrous voice songs of love, of war, of glory, and of sadness, and all listened without a movement or a sound.  So Allan sang till the great round silver moon gleamed with its clear white light amid the upper tangle of the mazy branches of the trees.  At last two fellows came to say that the feast was ready spread, so Robin, leading his guests with either hand, brought them to where great smoking dishes that sent savory smells far and near stood along the white linen cloth spread on the grass.  All around was a glare of torches that lit everything up with a red light.  Then, straightway sitting down, all fell to with noise and hubbub, the rattling of platters blending with the sound of loud talking and laughter.  A long time the feast lasted, but at last all was over, and the bright wine and humming ale passed briskly.  Then Robin Hood called aloud for silence, and all was hushed till he spoke.

“I have a story to tell you all, so listen to what I have to say,” quoth he; whereupon, without more ado, he told them all about Sir Richard, and how his lands were in pawn.  But, as he went on, the Bishop’s face, that had erst been smiling and ruddy with merriment, waxed serious, and he put aside the horn of wine he held in his hand, for he knew the story of Sir Richard, and his heart sank within him with grim forebodings.  Then, when Robin Hood had done, he turned to the Bishop of Hereford.  “Now, my Lord Bishop,” said he, “dost thou not think this is ill done of anyone, much more of a churchman, who should live in humbleness and charity?”

To this the Bishop answered not a word but looked upon the ground with moody eyes.

Quoth Robin, “Now, thou art the richest bishop in all England; canst thou not help this needy brother?” But still the Bishop answered not a word.

Then Robin turned to Little John, and quoth he, “Go thou and Will Stutely and bring forth those five pack horses yonder.”  Whereupon the two yeomen did as they were bidden, those about the cloth making room on the green, where the light was brightest, for the five horses which Little John and Will Stutely presently led forward.

“Who hath the score of the goods?” asked Robin Hood, looking at the Black Friars.

Then up spake the smallest of all, in a trembling voice—­an old man he was, with a gentle, wrinkled face.  “That have I; but, I pray thee, harm me not.”

“Nay,” quoth Robin, “I have never harmed harmless man yet; but give it to me, good father.”  So the old man did as he was bidden, and handed Robin the tablet on which was marked down the account of the various packages upon the horses.  This Robin handed to Will Scarlet, bidding him to read the same.  So Will Scarlet, lifting his voice that all might hear, began: 

“Three bales of silk to Quentin, the mercer at Ancaster.”

“That we touch not,” quoth Robin, “for this Quentin is an honest fellow, who hath risen by his own thrift.”  So the bales of silk were laid aside unopened.