Thus they walked down the forest path until they came to the highway, and then along the highway till it split in twain, leading on one hand to Blyth and on the other to Gainsborough.

Here the yeomen stopped.
Quoth jolly Robin, "Take thou the road to Gainsborough, and I will take that to Blyth.

So, fare thee well, holy father, and mayst thou not ha' cause to count thy beads in earnest ere we meet again." "Good den, good beggar that is to be," quoth Little John, "and mayst thou have no cause to beg for mercy ere I see thee next." So each stepped sturdily upon his way until a green hill rose between them, and the one was hid from the sight of the other.
Little John walked along, whistling, for no one was nigh upon all the road.

In the budding hedges the little birds twittered merrily, and on either hand the green hills swept up to the sky, the great white clouds of springtime sailing slowly over their crowns in lazy flight.

Up hill and down dale walked Little John, the fresh wind blowing in his face and his robes fluttering behind him, and so at last he came to a crossroad that led to Tuxford.