green meadows
and hedgerows.

"You know," began Mrs. Pitt, her eyes sparkling with fun, "when Robin
and his men had been in hiding for some days or weeks, perhaps,
because the old Sheriff of Nottingham was trying particularly hard to
catch them at the time, some of the most venturesome ones, not being
able to exist longer under the restraint, would start off in search of
adventure; and leaving a bit reluctantly the heart of Sherwood Forest,
they always made straight for the 'high road.' Now in just such a
place as this, by the cross-roads, Little John, garbed as a gray
friar, met the three lasses who were carrying their eggs to the market
at Tuxford. He swung one basket from his rosary, about his neck, and
took one in either hand, and thus he accompanied the maids to town. Am
I right? Is that the tale?"

"Yes," continued Philip, taking up the story where his mother had left
off; "then he went to a 'fair, thatched inn,' you know, and he sat
drinking with the tinker, the peddler, and the beggar, when the two
rich brothers from Fountains Abbey came out to start again on their
journey to York. Little John thought there'd be some fun, and perhaps
some good money for him, if he decided to go part of the way with
them, so he did. Don't you remember that one brother was very tall and
thin, and the other very short and stout? They were proud and ashamed
of being seen on the road in the company of a poor friar whose gown
was too short for him, as was Little John's. But he insisted upon
staying by, and strode along between their two nags. Whenever they met
anybody--beggars, fair lords and ladies, or fat Bishops--Little John
called out: 'Here we go; we three!'"

"And then," broke in Betty, her face literally radiant, "don't you
know how Little John finally robbed them? That was best of all! When
they came to a certain parting of the ways, he did consent to leave
them, but first he asked for a few pence, as he was poor. Both
brothers declared that they hadn't any money, at which Little John
insisted upon their kneeling down on the dusty road and praying to the
good St. Dunstan to send them each ten shillings, so that they could
continue their journey in safety and comfort. You know, he thought it
such a pity for two such worthy brothers to be in sore need of food
and drink!" The children were unconsciously lapsing into the language
of the Robin Hood stories, as they rattled on and on.

"Well," Betty went on, "Little John prayed