The others looked and saw a young man walking slowly down the highway.  Gay was he, indeed, as Robin had said, and a fine figure he cut, for his doublet was of scarlet silk and his stockings also; a handsome sword hung by his side, the embossed leathern scabbard being picked out with fine threads of gold; his cap was of scarlet velvet, and a broad feather hung down behind and back of one ear.  His hair was long and yellow and curled upon his shoulders, and in his hand he bore an early rose, which he smelled at daintily now and then.

“By my life!” quoth Robin Hood, laughing, “saw ye e’er such a pretty, mincing fellow?”

“Truly, his clothes have overmuch prettiness for my taste,” quoth Arthur a Bland, “but, ne’ertheless, his shoulders are broad and his loins are narrow, and seest thou, good master, how that his arms hang from his body?  They dangle not down like spindles, but hang stiff and bend at the elbow.  I take my vow, there be no bread and milk limbs in those fine clothes, but stiff joints and tough thews.”

“Methinks thou art right, friend Arthur,” said Little John.  “I do verily think that yon is no such roseleaf and whipped-cream gallant as he would have one take him to be.”

“Pah!” quoth Robin Hood, “the sight of such a fellow doth put a nasty taste into my mouth!  Look how he doth hold that fair flower betwixt his thumb and finger, as he would say, ’Good rose, I like thee not so ill but I can bear thy odor for a little while.’  I take it ye are both wrong, and verily believe that were a furious mouse to run across his path, he would cry, ‘La!’ or ‘Alack-a-day!’ and fall straightway into a swoon.  I wonder who he may be.”

“Some great baron’s son, I doubt not,” answered Little John, “with good and true men’s money lining his purse.”

“Ay, marry, that is true, I make no doubt,” quoth Robin.  “What a pity that such men as he, that have no thought but to go abroad in gay clothes, should have good fellows, whose shoes they are not fit to tie, dancing at their bidding.  By Saint Dunstan, Saint Alfred, Saint Withold, and all the good men in the Saxon calendar, it doth make me mad to see such gay lordlings from over the sea go stepping on the necks of good Saxons who owned this land before ever their great-grandsires chewed rind of brawn!  By the bright bow of Heaven, I will have their ill-gotten gains from them, even though I hang for it as high as e’er a forest tree in Sherwood!”

“Why, how now, master,” quoth Little John, “what heat is this?  Thou dost set thy pot a-boiling, and mayhap no bacon to cook!  Methinks yon fellow’s hair is overlight for Norman locks.  He may be a good man and true for aught thou knowest.”

“Nay,” said Robin, “my head against a leaden farthing, he is what I say.  So, lie ye both here, I say, till I show you how I drub this fellow.”  So saying, Robin Hood stepped forth from the shade of the beech tree, crossed the stile, and stood in the middle of the road, with his hands on his hips, in the stranger’s path.