His neck was thick like that of a north country bull, and his round head closely set upon shoulders e'en a match for those of Little John himself.

Beneath his bushy black brows danced a pair of little gray eyes that could not stand still for very drollery of humor.

No man could look into his face and not feel his heartstrings tickled by the merriment of their look.

By his side lay a steel cap, which he had laid off for the sake of the coolness to his crown.

His legs were stretched wide apart, and betwixt his knees he held a great pasty compounded of juicy meats of divers kinds made savory with tender young onions, both meat and onions being mingled with a good rich gravy.
In his right fist he held a great piece of brown crust at which he munched sturdily, and every now and then he thrust his left hand into the pie and drew it forth full of meat; anon he would take a mighty pull at a great bottle of Malmsey that lay beside him.
"By my faith," quoth Robin to himself, "I do verily believe that this is the merriest feast, the merriest wight, the merriest place, and the merriest sight in all merry England.