wers and what not, till no one would know them in their
fanciful dress. And here is a country bearing a well-known name, wherein
no chill mists press upon our spirits, and no rain falls but what rolls
off our backs like April showers off the backs of sleek drakes; where
flowers bloom forever and birds are always singing; where every fellow
hath a merry catch as he travels the roads, and ale and beer and wine
(such as muddle no wits) flow like water in a brook.

This country is not Fairyland. What is it? 'Tis the land of Fancy, and
is of that pleasant kind that, when you tire of it--whisk!--you clap the
leaves of this book together and 'tis gone, and you are ready for
everyday life, with no harm done.

And now I lift the curtain that hangs between here and No-man's-land.
Will you come with me, sweet Reader? I thank you. Give me your hand.

CONTENTS

How Robin Hood Came To Be An Outlaw
Robin Hood And The Tinker
The Shooting Match At Nottingham Town
Will Stutely Rescued By His Companions
Robin Hood Turns Butcher
Little John Goes To Nottingham Fair
How Little John Lived At The Sheriff's
Little John And The Tanner Of Blyth
Robin Hood And Will Scarlet
The Adventure With Midge, The Miller's Son
Robin Hood And Allan A Dale
Robin Hood Seeks The Curtal Friar
Robin Hood Compasses A Marriage
Robin Hood Aids A Sorrowful Knight
How Sir Richard Of The Lea Paid His Debts
Little John Turns Barefoot Friar
Robin Hood Turns Beggar
Robin Hood Shoots Before Queen Eleanor
The Chase Of Robin Hood
Robin Hood And Guy Of Gisbourne
King Richard Comes To Sherwood Forest
Epilogue

PROLOGUE

Giving an account of Robin Hood and his adventure with the King's
Foresters. Also telling how his band gathered around him, and of the
merry adventure that gained him his good right hand man, the famous
Little John.

How Robin Hood Came to Be an Outlaw

IN MERRY ENGLAND in the time of old, when good King Henry the Second
ruled the land, there lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest,
near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name was Robin Hood. No
archer ever lived that could speed a gray goose shaft with such skill
and cunning as his, nor were there ever such yeomen as the sevenscore
merry men that roamed with him through the greenwood shades. Right
merrily they dwelled within the depths of Sherwood Forest, suffering
neither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of archery or