me of my cloth in this naughty place.
Truly, methinks these rogues of outlaws would stand but an ill chance
were it not for the prayers of Holy Tuck, who laboreth so hard for their
well-being." Here he winked one eye slyly and stuck his tongue into his
cheek.

"Who art thou, mad priest?" said the King in a serious voice, albeit he
smiled beneath his cowl.

At this Friar Tuck looked all around with a slow gaze. "Look you now,"
quoth he, "never let me hear you say again that I am no patient man.
Here is a knave of a friar calleth me a mad priest, and yet I smite him
not. My name is Friar Tuck, fellow--the holy Friar Tuck."

"There, Tuck," said Robin, "thou hast said enow. Prythee, cease thy talk
and bring some wine. These reverend men are athirst, and sin' they have
paid so richly for their score they must e'en have the best."

Friar Tuck bridled at being so checked in his speech, nevertheless he
went straightway to do Robin's bidding; so presently a great crock was
brought, and wine was poured out for all the guests and for Robin Hood.
Then Robin held his cup aloft. "Stay!" cried he. "Tarry in your drinking
till I give you a pledge. Here is to good King Richard of great renown,
and may all enemies to him be confounded."

Then all drank the King's health, even the King himself. "Methinks, good
fellow," said he, "thou hast drunk to thine own confusion."

"Never a whit," quoth merry Robin, "for I tell thee that we of Sherwood
are more loyal to our lord the King than those of thine order. We would
give up our lives for his benefiting, while ye are content to lie snug
in your abbeys and priories let reign who will."

At this the King laughed. Quoth he, "Perhaps King Richard's welfare is
more to me than thou wottest of, fellow. But enough of that matter.
We have paid well for our fare, so canst thou not show us some merry
entertainment? I have oft heard that ye are wondrous archers; wilt thou
not show us somewhat of your skill?"

"With all my heart," said Robin, "we are always pleased to show our
guests all the sport that is to be seen. As Gaffer Swanthold sayeth,
''Tis a hard heart that will not give a caged starling of the best'; and
caged starlings ye are with us. Ho, lads! Set up a garland at the end of
the glade."

Then, as the yeomen ran to do their master's bidding, Tuck turned to
one of the mock friars. "Hearest thou our master?" quoth he, with a sly
wink. "Whenever he cometh across some poor piece of wit he