will
show you to be no common man."

"Sir," said Geoffrey, kneeling before his father, "I pray you forgive
both my rash words just now and all my seeming ingratitude. I am very
fain to be friends again with you, and I do swear to be more dutiful in
the years to come. Will you take my hand?"

"Ay, freely as it is offered. God save us; but who am I to be stubborn
of will, in the face of these miracles?"

"Do the miracles work happiness for you, Master Montfichet?" enquired
the maid, archly.

"Ay, marry. But the King will never consent to this business, be sure of
it. _You_ marrying my son--a commoner!"

"Your son?" It was now the Princess's turn to be amazed. But soon the
matter was explained to her. "So, Will, you have begun by deceiving me;
a bad beginning."

"I was trying to tell you, dear heart, when we made this encounter. Was
I not saying that my father lived near by here? Did I not tell you that
he was a Norman----"

"There, there, do not fret your dear self. I will marry you, whether you
be Will Scarlett or Geoffrey of Montfichet. It is yourself I need, after
all."

"Take my steed and ride with us to Gamewell. There, at least, I must
keep thee, Princess, until the King hath given his sanction to this
marriage. _You_ to rule over Gamewell? In sooth I will be a joyful man
upon that day."

"And I," murmured Master Scarlett.

So they turned back towards Gamewell, and only when they were in sight
of it did Scarlett remember poor Little John. Then he stopped short,
reining in the horse which one of the knights had lent to him. The
Princess had accepted loan of the esquire Jacquelaine's palfrey.

Will soon had told them this errand which he had come so near to
forgetting altogether. "If this be the man they call John Little
Nailor," said the Princess, sorrowfully, "why, he is in perilous plight.
You have but just ridden through Nottingham, I take it, Master
Montfichet, and have some of its news?"

"They do not seem yet to know of your adventurings, Princess."

"No, surely; for what is a woman, missing or to hand, when there is red
murder abroad? This poor fellow, whom I do believe to be innocent, was
accused of theft by a rascally cook, and was pursued. 'Twas the night of
our return. They chased him from pillar to post, and presently caught
him close to the castle. He had two bags with him."

"'Tis Little John, then," cried Scarlett; "I saw him go out with the
sacks across his back."

"In one of them