I am called Little John; and this is a new member who has just joined us, a stout tanner named Arthur a Bland.

Thou art like to achieve fame, Will, let me tell thee, for there will be many a merry ballad sung about the country, and many a merry story told in Sherwood of how Robin Hood taught Little John and Arthur a Bland the proper way to use the quarterstaff; likewise, as it were, how our good master bit off so large a piece of cake that he choked on it." "Nay, good Little John," quoth Robin gently, for he liked ill to have such a jest told of him.

"Why should we speak of this little matter?
Prythee, let us keep this day's doings among ourselves." "With all my heart," quoth Little John.

"But, good master, I thought that thou didst love a merry story, because thou hast so often made a jest about a certain increase of fatness on my joints, of flesh gathered by my abiding with the Sheriff of--" "Nay, good Little John," said Robin hastily, "I do bethink me I have said full enough on that score." "It is well," quoth Little John, "for in truth I myself have tired of it somewhat.

But now I bethink me, thou didst also seem minded to make a jest of the rain that threatened last night; so--" "Nay, then," said Robin Hood testily, "I was mistaken.