“Yes, I do,” said Robin.  “I’ll buy it all and your pony too.  How much do you want for it?  I should like to go to Nottingham and see what kind of a butcher I will make:” 

So the butcher sold his pony and all his meat to Robin.  Then Robin changed clothes with him.  He put on the butcher’s blue clothes and leather belt, and the butcher went off in Robin’s suit of Lincoln green, feeling very grand indeed.

Then Robin mounted his pony and off he went to Nottingham to sell his meat at the market.

When he arrived he found the whole town in a bustle.  In those days there were very few shops, so every one used to go to market to buy and sell.  The country people brought butter and eggs and honey to sell.  With the money they got they bought platters and mugs, pots and pans, or whatever they wanted, and took it back to the country with them.

All sorts of people came to buy:  fine ladies and poor women, rich knights and gentlemen, and humble workers, every one pushing and crowding together.  Robin found it quite difficult to drive his pony through the crowd to the corner of the market-place where the butchers had their stalls.

He got there at last, however, laid out his meat, and began to cry with the best of them.

“Prime meat, ladies.  Come and buy.  Cheapest meat in all the market, ladies.  Come buy, come buy.  Twopence a pound, ladies.  Twopence a pound.  Come buy.  Come buy.”

“What!” said every one, “beef at twopence a pound!  I never heard of such a thing.  Why it is generally tenpence.”

You see Robin knew nothing at all about selling meat, as he never bought any.  He and his men used to live on what they shot in the forest.

When it became known that there was a new butcher, who was selling his meat for twopence a pound, every one came crowding round his stall eager to buy.  All the other butchers stood idle until Robin had no more beef and mutton left to sell.

As these butchers had nothing to do, they began to talk among themselves and say, “Who is this man?  He has never been here before.”

“Do you think he has stolen the meat?”

“Perhaps his father has just died and left him a business.”

“Well, his money won’t last long at this rate.”

“The sooner he loses it all, the better for us.  We will never be able to sell anything as long as he comes here giving away beef at twopence a pound.”

“It is perfectly ridiculous,” said one old man, who seemed to be the chief butcher.  “These fifty years have I come and gone to Nottingham market, and I have never seen the like of it—­never.  He is ruining the trade, that’s what he is doing.”

They stood at their stalls sulky and cross, while all their customers crowded round Robin.

Shouts of laughter came from his corner, for he was not only selling beef and mutton, but making jokes about it all the time.