“Why dost thou not play, fellow?” quoth the Bishop, looking sternly at Robin.

“Marry,” said Robin calmly, “I will play in greater wise than Your Lordship thinks, but not till the right time hath come.”

Said the Bishop to himself, while he looked grimly at Robin, “When this wedding is gone by I will have this fellow well whipped for his saucy tongue and bold speech.”

And now fair Ellen and Sir Stephen stood before the altar, and the Bishop himself came in his robes and opened his book, whereat fair Ellen looked up and about her in bitter despair, like the fawn that finds the hounds on her haunch.  Then, in all his fluttering tags and ribbons of red and yellow, Robin Hood strode forward.  Three steps he took from the pillar whereby he leaned, and stood between the bride and bridegroom.

“Let me look upon this lass,” he said in a loud voice.  “Why, how now!  What have we here?  Here be lilies in the cheeks, and not roses such as befit a bonny bride.  This is no fit wedding.  Thou, Sir Knight, so old, and she so young, and thou thinkest to make her thy wife?  I tell thee it may not be, for thou art not her own true love.”

At this all stood amazed, and knew not where to look nor what to think or say, for they were all bewildered with the happening; so, while everyone looked at Robin as though they had been changed to stone, he clapped his bugle horn to his lips and blew three blasts so loud and clear, they echoed from floor to rafter as though they were sounded by the trump of doom.  Then straightway Little John and Will Stutely came leaping and stood upon either side of Robin Hood, and quickly drew their broadswords, the while a mighty voice rolled over the heads of all, “Here be I, good master, when thou wantest me”; for it was Friar Tuck that so called from the organ loft.

And now all was hubbub and noise.  Stout Edward strode forward raging, and would have seized his daughter to drag her away, but Little John stepped between and thrust him back.  “Stand back, old man,” said he, “thou art a hobbled horse this day.”

“Down with the villains!” cried Sir Stephen, and felt for his sword, but it hung not beside him on his wedding day.

Then the men-at-arms drew their swords, and it seemed like that blood would wet the stones; but suddenly came a bustle at the door and loud voices, steel flashed in the light, and the crash of blows sounded.  The men-at-arms fell back, and up the aisle came leaping eighteen stout yeomen all clad in Lincoln green, with Allan a Dale at their head.  In his hand he bore Robin Hood’s good stout trusty bow of yew, and this he gave to him, kneeling the while upon one knee.

Then up spake Edward of Deirwold in a deep voice of anger, “Is it thou, Allan a Dale, that hath bred all this coil in a church?”

“Nay,” quoth merry Robin, “that have I done, and I care not who knoweth it, for my name is Robin Hood.”