Two days had passed by, and somewhat of the soreness had passed away from Robin Hood’s joints, yet still, when he moved of a sudden and without thinking, pain here and there would, as it were, jog him, crying, “Thou hast had a drubbing, good fellow.”

The day was bright and jocund, and the morning dew still lay upon the grass.  Under the greenwood tree sat Robin Hood; on one side was Will Scarlet, lying at full length upon his back, gazing up into the clear sky, with hands clasped behind his head; upon the other side sat Little John, fashioning a cudgel out of a stout crab-tree limb; elsewhere upon the grass sat or lay many others of the band.

“By the faith of my heart,” quoth merry Robin, “I do bethink me that we have had no one to dine with us for this long time.  Our money groweth low in the purse, for no one hath come to pay a reckoning for many a day.  Now busk thee, good Stutely, and choose thee six men, and get thee gone to Fosse Way or thereabouts, and see that thou bringest someone to eat with us this evening.  Meantime we will prepare a grand feast to do whosoever may come the greater honor.  And stay, good Stutely.  I would have thee take Will Scarlet with thee, for it is meet that he should become acquaint with the ways of the forest.”

“Now do I thank thee, good master,” quoth Stutely, springing to his feet, “that thou hast chosen me for this adventure.  Truly, my limbs do grow slack through abiding idly here.  As for two of my six, I will choose Midge the Miller and Arthur a Bland, for, as well thou knowest, good master, they are stout fists at the quarterstaff.  Is it not so, Little John?”

At this all laughed but Little John and Robin, who twisted up his face.  “I can speak for Midge,” said he, “and likewise for my cousin Scarlet.  This very blessed morn I looked at my ribs and found them as many colors as a beggar’s cloak.”

So, having chosen four more stout fellows, Will Stutely and his band set forth to Fosse Way, to find whether they might not come across some rich guest to feast that day in Sherwood with Robin and his band.

For all the livelong day they abided near this highway.  Each man had brought with him a good store of cold meat and a bottle of stout March beer to stay his stomach till the homecoming.  So when high noontide had come they sat them down upon the soft grass, beneath a green and wide-spreading hawthorn bush, and held a hearty and jovial feast.  After this, one kept watch while the others napped, for it was a still and sultry day.

Thus they passed the time pleasantly enow, but no guest such as they desired showed his face in all the time that they lay hidden there.  Many passed along the dusty road in the glare of the sun:  now it was a bevy of chattering damsels merrily tripping along; now it was a plodding tinker; now a merry shepherd lad; now a sturdy farmer; all gazing ahead along the road, unconscious of the seven stout fellows that lay hidden so near them.  Such were the travelers along the way; but fat abbot, rich esquire, or money-laden usurer came there none.