“Now art thou the man for my farthing,” cried the messenger.  “And back thou goest with me to Nottingham Town.”

“Nay,” quoth the Tinker, shaking his head slowly from side to side.  “Go I with no man gin it be not with mine own free will.”

“Nay, nay,” said the messenger, “no man is there in Nottinghamshire could make thee go against thy will, thou brave fellow.”

“Ay, that be I brave,” said the Tinker.

“Ay, marry,” said the messenger, “thou art a brave lad; but our good Sheriff hath offered fourscore angels of bright gold to whosoever shall serve the warrant upon Robin Hood; though little good will it do.”

“Then I will go with thee, lad.  Do but wait till I get my bag and hammer, and my cudgel.  Ay, let’ me but meet this same Robin Hood, and let me see whether he will not mind the King’s warrant.”  So, after having paid their score, the messenger, with the Tinker striding beside his nag, started back to Nottingham again.

One bright morning soon after this time, Robin Hood started off to Nottingham Town to find what was a-doing there, walking merrily along the roadside where the grass was sweet with daisies, his eyes wandering and his thoughts also.  His bugle horn hung at his hip and his bow and arrows at his back, while in his hand he bore a good stout oaken staff, which he twirled with his fingers as he strolled along.

As thus he walked down a shady lane he saw a tinker coming, trolling a merry song as he drew nigh.  On his back hung his bag and his hammer, and in his hand he carried a right stout crabstaff full six feet long, and thus sang he: 

 “In peascod time, when hound to horn
     Gives ear till buck be killed,
 And little lads with pipes of corn
     Sit keeping beasts afield—­”

“Halloa, good friend!” cried Robin.

“I went to gather strawberries—­”

“Halloa!” cried Robin again.

“By woods and Groves full fair—­”

“Halloa!  Art thou deaf, man?  Good friend, say I!” “And who art thou dost so boldly check a fair song?” quoth the Tinker, stopping in his singing.  “Halloa, shine own self, whether thou be good friend or no.  But let me tell thee, thou stout fellow, gin thou be a good friend it were well for us both; but gin thou be no good friend it were ill for thee.”

“And whence comest thou, my lusty blade?” quoth Robin.

“I come from Banbury,” answered the Tinker.

“Alas!” quoth Robin, “I hear there is sad news this merry morn.”

“Ha!  Is it indeed so?” cried the Tinker eagerly.  “Prythee tell it speedily, for I am a tinker by trade, as thou seest, and as I am in my trade I am greedy for news, even as a priest is greedy for farthings.”

“Well then,” quoth Robin, “list thou and I will tell, but bear thyself up bravely, for the news is sad, I wot.  Thus it is:  I hear that two tinkers are in the stocks for drinking ale and beer!”