Then Robin, seeing that he had somewhat gathered the wits that had just been rapped out of his head, said, “Now, good fellow, wilt thou change clothes with me, or shall I have to tap thee again?  Here are two golden angels if thou wilt give me freely all thy rags and bags and thy cap and things.  If thou givest them not freely, I much fear me I shall have to—­ " and he looked up and down his staff.

Then Riccon sat up and rubbed the bump on his crown.  “Now, out upon it!” quoth he.  “I did think to drub thee sweetly, fellow.  I know not how it is, but I seem, as it were, to have bought more beer than I can drink.  If I must give up my clothes, I must, but first promise me, by thy word as a true yeoman, that thou wilt take nought from me but my clothes.”

“I promise on the word of a true yeoman,” quoth Robin, thinking that the fellow had a few pennies that he would save.

Thereupon the Beggar drew a little knife that hung at his side and, ripping up the lining of his coat, drew thence ten bright golden pounds, which he laid upon the ground beside him with a cunning wink at Robin.  “Now thou mayst have my clothes and welcome,” said he, “and thou mightest have had them in exchange for thine without the cost of a single farthing, far less two golden angels.”

“Marry,” quoth Robin, laughing, “thou art a sly fellow, and I tell thee truly, had I known thou hadst so much money by thee maybe thou mightst not have carried it away, for I warrant thou didst not come honestly by it.”

Then each stripped off his clothes and put on those of the other, and as lusty a beggar was Robin Hood as e’er you could find of a summer’s day.  But stout Riccon of Holywell skipped and leaped and danced for joy of the fair suit of Lincoln green that he had so gotten.  Quoth he, “I am a gay-feathered bird now.  Truly, my dear Moll Peascod would never know me in this dress.  Thou mayst keep the cold pieces of the feast, friend, for I mean to live well and lustily while my money lasts and my clothes are gay.”

So he turned and left Robin and, crossing the stile, was gone, but Robin heard him singing from beyond the hedge as he strode away: 

 “For Polly is smiling and Molly is glad
     When the beggar comes in at the door,
 And Jack and Dick call him a fine lusty lad,
     And the hostess runs up a great score.

 Then hey, Willy Waddykin,
     Stay, Billy Waddykin,
 And let the brown ale flow free, flow free,
     The beggar’s the man for me_.”

Robin listened till the song ended in the distance, then he also crossed the stile into the road, but turned his toes away from where the Beggar had gone.  The road led up a gentle hill and up the hill Robin walked, a half score or more of bags dangling about his legs.  Onward he strolled for a long time, but other adventure he found not.  The road was bare of all else but himself, as he went kicking up