“Nay, marry,” quoth Robin, laughing, “thou art awake, as thou wilt presently find, for a fine feast is a-cooking for thee.  Thou art our honored guest this day.”

Still the young stranger looked about him, as though in a dream.  Presently he turned to Robin.  “Methinks,” said he, “I know now where I am and what hath befallen me.  Art not thou the great Robin Hood?”

“Thou hast hit the bull’s eye,” quoth Robin, clapping him upon the shoulder.  “Men hereabouts do call me by that name.  Sin’ thou knowest me, thou knowest also that he who feasteth with me must pay his reckoning.  I trust thou hast a full purse with thee, fair stranger.”

“Alas!” said the stranger, “I have no purse nor no money either, saving only the half of a sixpence, the other half of which mine own dear love doth carry in her bosom, hung about her neck by a strand of silken thread.”

At this speech a great shout of laughter went up from those around, whereat the poor boy looked as he would die of shame; but Robin Hood turned sharply to Will Stutely.  “Why, how now,” quoth he, “is this the guest that thou hast brought us to fill our purse?  Methinks thou hast brought but a lean cock to the market.”

“Nay, good master,” answered Will Stutely, grinning, “he is no guest of mine; it was Will Scarlet that brought him thither.”

Then up spoke Will Scarlet, and told how they had found the lad in sorrow, and how he had brought him to Robin, thinking that he might perchance aid him in his trouble.  Then Robin Hood turned to the youth, and, placing his hand upon the other’s shoulder, held him off at arm’s length, scanning his face closely.

“A young face,” quoth he in a low voice, half to himself, “a kind face, a good face.  ’Tis like a maiden’s for purity, and, withal, the fairest that e’er mine eyes did see; but, if I may judge fairly by thy looks, grief cometh to young as well as to old.”  At these words, spoken so kindly, the poor lad’s eyes brimmed up with tears.  “Nay, nay,” said Robin hastily, “cheer up, lad; I warrant thy case is not so bad that it cannot be mended.  What may be thy name?”

“Allen a Dale is my name, good master.”

“Allen a Dale,” repeated Robin, musing.  “Allen a Dale.  It doth seem to me that the name is not altogether strange to mine ears.  Yea, surely thou art the minstrel of whom we have been hearing lately, whose voice so charmeth all men.  Dost thou not come from the Dale of Rotherstream, over beyond Stavely?”

“Yea, truly,” answered Allan, “I do come thence.”

“How old art thou, Allan?” said Robin.

“I am but twenty years of age.”

“Methinks thou art overyoung to be perplexed with trouble,” quoth Robin kindly; then, turning to the others, he cried, “Come, lads, busk ye and get our feast ready; only thou, Will Scarlet, and thou, Little John, stay here with me.”

Then, when the others had gone, each man about his business, Robin turned once more to the youth.  “Now, lad,” said he, “tell us thy troubles, and speak freely.  A flow of words doth ever ease the heart of sorrows; it is like opening the waste weir when the mill dam is overfull.  Come, sit thou here beside me, and speak at thine ease.”