First David of Doncaster shot, and lodged all three of his arrows within the garland.  “Well done, David!” cried Robin, “thou hast saved thine ears from a warming this day.”  Next Midge, the Miller, shot, and he, also, lodged his arrows in the garland.  Then followed Wat, the Tinker, but alas for him!  For one of his shafts missed the mark by the breadth of two fingers.

“Come hither, fellow,” said Will Scarlet, in his soft, gentle voice, “I owe thee somewhat that I would pay forthwith.”  Then Wat, the Tinker, came forward and stood in front of Will Scarlet, screwing up his face and shutting his eyes tightly, as though he already felt his ears ringing with the buffet.  Will Scarlet rolled up his sleeve, and, standing on tiptoe to give the greater swing to his arm, he struck with might and main.  “WHOOF!” came his palm against the Tinker’s head, and down went stout Wat to the grass, heels over head, as the wooden image at the fair goes down when the skillful player throws a cudgel at it.  Then, as the Tinker sat up upon the grass, rubbing his ear and winking and blinking at the bright stars that danced before his eyes, the yeomen roared with mirth till the forest rang.  As for King Richard, he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.  Thus the band shot, each in turn, some getting off scot free, and some winning a buffet that always sent them to the grass.  And now, last of all, Robin took his place, and all was hushed as he shot.  The first shaft he shot split a piece from the stake on which the garland was hung; the second lodged within an inch of the other.  “By my halidom,” said King Richard to himself, “I would give a thousand pounds for this fellow to be one of my guard!” And now, for the third time Robin shot; but, alas for him!  The arrow was ill-feathered, and, wavering to one side, it smote an inch outside the garland.

At this a great roar went up, those of the yeomen who sat upon the grass rolling over and over and shouting with laughter, for never before had they seen their master so miss his mark; but Robin flung his bow upon the ground with vexation.  “Now, out upon it!” cried he.  “That shaft had an ill feather to it, for I felt it as it left my fingers.  Give me a clean arrow, and I will engage to split the wand with it.”

At these words the yeomen laughed louder than ever.  “Nay, good uncle,” said Will Scarlet in his soft, sweet voice, “thou hast had thy fair chance and hast missed thine aim out and out.  I swear the arrow was as good as any that hath been loosed this day.  Come hither; I owe thee somewhat, and would fain pay it.”

“Go, good master,” roared Friar Tuck, “and may my blessing go with thee.  Thou hast bestowed these love taps of Will Scarlet’s with great freedom.  It were pity an thou gottest not thine own share.”

“It may not be,” said merry Robin.  “I am king here, and no subject may raise hand against the king.  But even our great King Richard may yield to the holy Pope without shame, and even take a tap from him by way of penance; therefore I will yield myself to this holy friar, who seemeth to be one in authority, and will take my punishment from him.”  Thus saying, he turned to the King, “I prythee, brother, wilt thou take my punishing into thy holy hands?”