Across the range from where the seats for the better folk were raised was a railing to keep the poorer people from crowding in front of the target.  Already, while it was early, the benches were beginning to fill with people of quality, who kept constantly arriving in little carts or upon palfreys that curveted gaily to the merry tinkle of silver bells at bridle reins.  With these came also the poorer folk, who sat or lay upon the green grass near the railing that kept them from off the range.  In the great tent the archers were gathering by twos and threes; some talking loudly of the fair shots each man had made in his day; some looking well to their bows, drawing a string betwixt the fingers to see that there was no fray upon it, or inspecting arrows, shutting one eye and peering down a shaft to see that it was not warped, but straight and true, for neither bow nor shaft should fail at such a time and for such a prize.  And never was such a company of yeomen as were gathered at Nottingham Town that day, for the very best archers of merry England had come to this shooting match.  There was Gill o’ the Red Cap, the Sheriff’s own head archer, and Diccon Cruikshank of Lincoln Town, and Adam o’ the Dell, a man of Tamworth, of threescore years and more, yet hale and lusty still, who in his time had shot in the famous match at Woodstock, and had there beaten that renowned archer, Clym o’ the Clough.  And many more famous men of the longbow were there, whose names have been handed down to us in goodly ballads of the olden time.

But now all the benches were filled with guests, lord and lady, burgher and dame, when at last the Sheriff himself came with his lady, he riding with stately mien upon his milk-white horse and she upon her brown filly.  Upon his head he wore a purple velvet cap, and purple velvet was his robe, all trimmed about with rich ermine; his jerkin and hose were of sea-green silk, and his shoes of black velvet, the pointed toes fastened to his garters with golden chains.  A golden chain hung about his neck, and at his collar was a great carbuncle set in red gold.  His lady was dressed in blue velvet, all trimmed with swan’s down.  So they made a gallant sight as they rode along side by side, and all the people shouted from where they crowded across the space from the gentlefolk; so the Sheriff and his lady came to their place, where men-at-arms, with hauberk and spear, stood about, waiting for them.

Then when the Sheriff and his dame had sat down, he bade his herald wind upon his silver horn; who thereupon sounded three blasts that came echoing cheerily back from the gray walls of Nottingham.  Then the archers stepped forth to their places, while all the folks shouted with a mighty voice, each man calling upon his favorite yeoman.  “Red Cap!” cried some; “Cruikshank!” cried others; “Hey for William o’ Leslie!” shouted others yet again; while ladies waved silken scarfs to urge each yeoman to do his best.