“Nay, use no force,” said the King sternly.  “Here is my purse, but lay not thy lawless hands upon our person.”

“Hut, tut,” quoth merry Robin, “what proud words are these?  Art thou the King of England, to talk so to me?  Here, Will, take this purse and see what there is within.”

Will Scarlet took the purse and counted out the money.  Then Robin bade him keep fifty pounds for themselves, and put fifty back into the purse.  This he handed to the King.  “Here, brother,” quoth he, “take this half of thy money, and thank Saint Martin, on whom thou didst call before, that thou hast fallen into the hands of such gentle rogues that they will not strip thee bare, as they might do.  But wilt thou not put back thy cowl?  For I would fain see thy face.”

“Nay,” said the King, drawing back, “I may not put back my cowl, for we seven have vowed that we will not show our faces for four and twenty hours.”

“Then keep them covered in peace,” said Robin, “and far be it from me to make you break your vows.”

So he called seven of his yeomen and bade them each one take a mule by the bridle; then, turning their faces toward the depths of the woodlands, they journeyed onward until they came to the open glade and the greenwood tree.

Little John, with threescore yeomen at his heels, had also gone forth that morning to wait along the roads and bring a rich guest to Sherwood glade, if such might be his luck, for many with fat purses must travel the roads at this time, when such great doings were going on in Nottinghamshire, but though Little John and so many others were gone, Friar Tuck and twoscore or more stout yeomen were seated or lying around beneath the great tree, and when Robin and the others came they leaped to their feet to meet him.

“By my soul,” quoth merry King Richard, when he had gotten down from his mule and stood looking about him, “thou hast in very truth a fine lot of young men about thee, Robin.  Methinks King Richard himself would be glad of such a bodyguard.”

“These are not all of my fellows,” said Robin proudly, “for threescore more of them are away on business with my good right-hand man, Little John.  But, as for King Richard, I tell thee, brother, there is not a man of us all but would pour out our blood like water for him.  Ye churchmen cannot rightly understand our King; but we yeomen love him right loyally for the sake of his brave doings which are so like our own.”

But now Friar Tuck came bustling up.  “Gi’ ye good den, brothers,” said he.  “I am right glad to welcome some of my cloth in this naughty place.  Truly, methinks these rogues of outlaws would stand but an ill chance were it not for the prayers of Holy Tuck, who laboreth so hard for their well-being.”  Here he winked one eye slyly and stuck his tongue into his cheek.

“Who art thou, mad priest?” said the King in a serious voice, albeit he smiled beneath his cowl.