atter
of fact, the old man had no great love for him, but he was, after all,
the true King, and Montfichet threw all his weight into the scale
against John. The Saxon nobles were also active, feeling that now was
their chance to recover power.

So Monceux and the demoiselle saw for themselves that they had nothing
to fear from the Court, at any rate. They had stayed and enjoyed
themselves in the city, and the Sheriff was able to make himself
presently very useful.

The Princess of Aragon, one of the Court beauties, had need of an escort
to York. She was going there to be married (much against her royal will)
to one of the great Saxon notables. This was an arrangement made by the
Richard party, in the hopes of winning the Saxons to themselves, as
against John, who had already Salisbury, De Bray, and the cunning
Fitzurse upon his side.

The Sheriff had arrived with his train in great state, just as Little
John entered Nottingham. The outlaw came in by the north gate, as
Monceux, proud of escorting the pretty Princess, entered by the south.
Nottingham was gay with bunting and flags, and the bells were ringing
noisily.

It was a royal procession, and soon as Little John was able to join with
it his bag began to swell rapidly. Many a pocket did his sharp knife
slice away from the side of unsuspecting wealthy citizens.

Sports were held in the fields, and the beggar had a merry time of it.
Towards nightfall his bags were both filled, and he began to think it
about time to attend to the commissions which Robin had laid upon him.
This was to convey a letter to Marian, and to discover how Allan-a-Dale
and his little wife were faring.

Little John shuffled with his bags along the narrow streets until he
came to the house. He began to cry his wares, calling out that he was
ready to change new goods for old ones, that he would buy old clothes
and give good money for them.

Marian and the rest had, however, gone to see the sights, for there were
to be illuminations. Only Roger the cook had been left in charge, and
he, having glanced once at the noisy beggar, angrily bade him begone.

Little John only shouted the louder, and the cook furiously flung to the
casement windows. The beggar passed by the house slowly, still calling
"old clothes," as if he had not even noticed the angry cook.

Yet Roger's few angry words had awoke sharp recognition in Little John.
"By my rags and bags," muttered he, amazed, "this rascal needeth m