So the holy men came to the church; the Bishop and the Prior jesting and laughing between themselves about certain fair dames, their words more befitting the lips of laymen, methinks, than holy clerks.  Then they dismounted, and the Bishop, looking around, presently caught sight of Robin standing in the doorway.  “Hilloa, good fellow,” quoth he in a jovial voice, “who art thou that struttest in such gay feathers?”

“A harper am I from the north country,” quoth Robin, “and I can touch the strings, I wot, as never another man in all merry England can do.  Truly, good Lord Bishop, many a knight and burgher, clerk and layman, have danced to my music, willy-nilly, and most times greatly against their will; such is the magic of my harping.  Now this day, my Lord Bishop, if I may play at this wedding, I do promise that I will cause the fair bride to love the man she marries with a love that shall last as long as that twain shall live together.”

“Ha! is it so?” cried the Bishop.  “Meanest thou this in sooth?” And he looked keenly at Robin, who gazed boldly back again into his eyes.  “Now, if thou wilt cause this maiden (who hath verily bewitched my poor cousin Stephen) thus to love the man she is to marry, as thou sayst thou canst, I will give thee whatsoever thou wilt ask me in due measure.  Let me have a taste of thy skill, fellow.”

“Nay,” quoth Robin, “my music cometh not without I choose, even at a lord bishop’s bidding.  In sooth, I will not play until the bride and bridegroom come.”

“Now, thou art a saucy varlet to speak so to my crest,” quoth the Bishop, frowning on Robin.  “Yet, I must needs bear with thee.  Look, Prior, hither cometh our cousin Sir Stephen, and his ladylove.”

And now, around the bend of the highroad, came others, riding upon horses.  The first of all was a tall, thin man, of knightly bearing, dressed all in black silk, with a black velvet cap upon his head, turned up with scarlet.  Robin looked, and had no doubt that this was Sir Stephen, both because of his knightly carriage and of his gray hairs.  Beside him rode a stout Saxon franklin, Ellen’s father, Edward of Deirwold; behind those two came a litter borne by two horses, and therein was a maiden whom Robin knew must be Ellen.  Behind this litter rode six men-at-arms, the sunlight flashing on their steel caps as they came jingling up the dusty road.

So these also came to the church, and there Sir Stephen leaped from his horse and, coming to the litter, handed fair Ellen out therefrom.  Then Robin Hood looked at her, and could wonder no longer how it came about that so proud a knight as Sir Stephen of Trent wished to marry a common franklin’s daughter; nor did he wonder that no ado was made about the matter, for she was the fairest maiden that ever he had beheld.  Now, however, she was all pale and drooping, like a fair white lily snapped at the stem; and so, with bent head and sorrowful look, she went within the church, Sir Stephen leading her by the hand.