Near by sat Allan a Dale fitting a new string to his harp.
Quoth Robin at last, "Methinks I would rather roam this forest in the gentle springtime than be King of all merry England.

What palace in the broad world is as fair as this sweet woodland just now, and what king in all the world hath such appetite for plover's eggs and lampreys as I for juicy venison and sparkling ale?
Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when he saith, 'Better a crust with content than honey with a sour heart.'" "Yea," quoth Little John, as he rubbed his new-made bowstring with yellow beeswax, "the life we lead is the life for me.

Thou speakest of the springtime, but methinks even the winter hath its own joys.

Thou and I, good master, have had more than one merry day, this winter past, at the Blue Boar.

Dost thou not remember that night thou and Will Stutely and Friar Tuck and I passed at that same hostelry with the two beggars and the strolling friar ?" "Yea," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "that was the night that Will Stutely must needs snatch a kiss from the stout hostess, and got a canakin of ale emptied over his head for his pains." "Truly, it was the same," said Little John, laughing also.