about him, walked proudly down the aisle. Then all the
yeomen were silenced by the scorn of his words. Only Friar Tuck leaned
over the edge of the choir loft and called out to him ere he had gone,
"Good den, Sir Knight. Thou wottest old bones must alway make room for
young blood." Sir Stephen neither answered nor looked up, but passed
out from the church as though he had heard nought, his men following
him.

Then the Bishop of Hereford spoke hastily, "I, too, have no business
here, and so will depart." And he made as though he would go. But Robin
Hood laid hold of his clothes and held him. "Stay, my Lord Bishop," said
he, "I have yet somewhat to say to thee." The Bishop's face fell, but he
stayed as Robin bade him, for he saw he could not go.

Then Robin Hood turned to stout Edward of Deirwold, and said he, "Give
thy blessing on thy daughter's marriage to this yeoman, and all will be
well. Little John, give me the bags of gold. Look, farmer. Here are
two hundred bright golden angels; give thy blessing, as I say, and I
will count them out to thee as thy daughter's dower. Give not thy
blessing, and she shall be married all the same, but not so much as a
cracked farthing shall cross thy palm. Choose."

Then Edward looked upon the ground with bent brows, turning the matter
over and over in his mind; but he was a shrewd man and one, withal, that
made the best use of a cracked pipkin; so at last he looked up and said,
but in no joyous tone, "If the wench will go her own gait, let her go. I
had thought to make a lady of her; yet if she chooses to be what she is
like to be, I have nought to do with her henceforth. Ne'ertheless I will
give her my blessing when she is duly wedded."

"It may not be," spake up one of those of Emmet. "The banns have not
been duly published, neither is there any priest here to marry them."

"How sayst thou?" roared Tuck from the choir loft. "No priest? Marry,
here stands as holy a man as thou art, any day of the week, a clerk in
orders, I would have thee know. As for the question of banns, stumble
not over that straw, brother, for I will publish them." So saying, he
called the banns; and, says the old ballad, lest three times should not
be enough, he published them nine times o'er. Then straightway he came
down from the loft and forthwith performed the marriage service; and so
Allan and Ellen were duly wedded.

And now Robin counted out two hundred golden angels to Edward of
Deirwold,