passed.  But now he thought of his good master and of Will Stutely, whom he loved better than anyone in all the world, and of young David of Doncaster, whom he had trained so well in all manly sports, till there came over his heart a great and bitter longing for them all, so that his eyes filled with tears.  Then he said aloud, “Here I grow fat like a stall-fed ox and all my manliness departeth from me while I become a sluggard and dolt.  But I will arouse me and go back to mine own dear friends once more, and never will I leave them again till life doth leave my lips.”  So saying, he leaped from bed, for he hated his sluggishness now.

When he came downstairs he saw the Steward standing near the pantry door—­a great, fat man, with a huge bundle of keys hanging to his girdle.  Then Little John said, “Ho, Master Steward, a hungry man am I, for nought have I had for all this blessed morn.  Therefore, give me to eat.”

Then the Steward looked grimly at him and rattled the keys in his girdle, for he hated Little John because he had found favor with the Sheriff.  “So, Master Reynold Greenleaf, thou art anhungered, art thou?” quoth he.  “But, fair youth, if thou livest long enough, thou wilt find that he who getteth overmuch sleep for an idle head goeth with an empty stomach.  For what sayeth the old saw, Master Greenleaf?  Is it not ’The late fowl findeth but ill faring’?”

“Now, thou great purse of fat!” cried Little John, “I ask thee not for fool’s wisdom, but for bread and meat.  Who art thou, that thou shouldst deny me to eat?  By Saint Dunstan, thou hadst best tell me where my breakfast is, if thou wouldst save broken bones!”

“Thy breakfast, Master Fireblaze, is in the pantry,” answered the Steward.

“Then fetch it hither!” cried Little John, who waxed angry by this time.

“Go thou and fetch it thine own self,” quoth the Steward.  “Am I thy slave, to fetch and carry for thee?”

“I say, go thou, bring it me!”

“I say, go thou, fetch it for thyself!”

“Ay, marry, that will I, right quickly!” quoth Little John in a rage.  And, so saying, he strode to the pantry and tried to open the door but found it locked, whereat the Steward laughed and rattled his keys.  Then the wrath of Little John boiled over, and, lifting his clenched fist, he smote the pantry door, bursting out three panels and making so large an opening that he could easily stoop and walk through it.

When the Steward saw what was done, he waxed mad with rage; and, as Little John stooped to look within the pantry, he seized him from behind by the nape of the neck, pinching him sorely and smiting him over the head with his keys till the yeoman’s ears rang again.  At this Little John turned upon the Steward and smote him such a buffet that the fat man fell to the floor and lay there as though he would never move again.  “There,” quoth Little John, “think well of that stroke and never keep a good breakfast from a hungry man again.”