quoth Little John, as he pushed
in betwixt the two cobs, "therefore I wish you good den. Off we go, we
three." So saying, he swung his stout staff over his shoulder and
trudged off, measuring his pace with that of the two nags.

The two brothers glowered at Little John when he so pushed himself
betwixt them, then they drew as far away from him as they could, so that
the yeoman walked in the middle of the road, while they rode on the
footpath on either side of the way. As they so went away, the Tinker,
the Peddler, and the Beggar ran skipping out into the middle of the
highway, each with a pot in his hand, and looked after them laughing.

While they were in sight of those at the inn, the brothers walked their
horses soberly, not caring to make ill matters worse by seeming to run
away from Little John, for they could not but think how it would sound
in folks' ears when they heard how the brethren of Fountain Abbey
scampered away from a strolling friar, like the Ugly One, when the
blessed Saint Dunstan loosed his nose from the red-hot tongs where he
had held it fast; but when they had crossed the crest of the hill and
the inn was lost to sight, quoth the fat Brother to the thin Brother,
"Brother Ambrose, had we not better mend our pace?"

"Why truly, gossip," spoke up Little John, "methinks it would be well to
boil our pot a little faster, for the day is passing on. So it will not
jolt thy fat too much, onward, say I."

At this the two friars said nothing, but they glared again on Little
John with baleful looks; then, without another word, they clucked to
their horses, and both broke into a canter. So they galloped for a mile
and more, and Little John ran betwixt them as lightly as a stag and
never turned a hair with the running. At last the fat Brother drew his
horse's rein with a groan, for he could stand the shaking no longer.
"Alas," said Little John, with not so much as a catch in his breath, "I
did sadly fear that the roughness of this pace would shake thy poor old
fat paunch."

To this the fat Friar said never a word, but he stared straight before
him, and he gnawed his nether lip. And now they traveled forward more
quietly, Little John in the middle of the road whistling merrily to
himself, and the two friars in the footpath on either side saying never
a word.

Then presently they met three merry minstrels, all clad in red, who
stared amain to see a Gray Friar with such short robes walking in the
middle o