At this the foresters seized the stranger, and would have ducked him had not their leader bade them stop, and begged the stranger to stay with them and make one of themselves.  “Here is my hand,” replied the stranger, “and my heart with it.  My name, if you would know it, is John Little.”

“That must be altered,” cried Will Scarlett; “we will call a feast, and henceforth, because he is full seven feet tall and round the waist at least an ell, he shall be called Little John.”  And thus it was done; but at the feast Little John, who always liked to know exactly what work he had to do, put some questions to Robin Hood.  “Before I join hands with you, tell me first what sort of life is this you lead?  How am I to know whose goods I shall take, and whose I shall leave?  Whom I shall beat, and whom I shall refrain from beating?”

And Robin answered:  “Look that you harm not any tiller of the ground, nor any yeoman of the greenwood—­no knight, no squire, unless you have heard him ill spoken of.  But if bishops or archbishops come your way, see that you spoil them, and mark that you always hold in your mind the High Sheriff of Nottingham.”

This being settled, Robin Hood declared Little John to be second in command to himself among the brotherhood of the forest, and the new outlaw never forgot to “hold in his mind” the High Sheriff of Nottingham, who was the bitterest enemy the foresters had.

The ballad of Robin hood, the butcher and the Sheriff.

Upon a time it chanced so,
 Bold Robin in forest did spy
 A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare,
 With his flesh to the market did hie.

“Good morrow, good fellow,” said jolly Robin,
 “What food hast thou? tell unto me;
 Thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell,
 For I like well thy company.”

The butcher he answer’d jolly Robin,
 “No matter where I dwell;
 For a butcher I am, and to Nottingham
 I am going, my flesh to sell.”

“What’s the price of thy flesh?” said jolly Robin,
 “Come, tell it soon unto me;
 And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear,
 For a butcher fain would I be.”

“The price of my flesh,” the butcher replied,
 “I soon will tell unto thee;
 With my bonny mare, and they are not dear,
 Four marks thou must give unto me.”

“Four marks I will give thee,” said jolly Robin,
 “Four marks shall be thy fee;
 The money come count, and let me mount,
 For a butcher I fain would be.”

Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone,
 His butcher’s trade to begin;
 With good intent to the Sheriff he went,
 And there he took up his inn.

When other butchers did open their meat,
 Bold Robin got gold and fee,
 For he sold more meat for one penny
 Than others did sell for three.

Which made the butchers of Nottingham
 To study as they did stand,
 Saying, “Surely he is some prodigal
 That has sold his father’s land.”