“He’s nice, isn’t he, Rose?” remarked Ruth, waving back. “But what a horrid father he’s got.”
And then they plunged into the cool green forest with Robin Hood and his band and pretty Maid Marian.
The soft shadow closed about them, the men in their green suits, with scarlet feathers in their caps, pressed forward, laughing at the success of the plot. Robin walked beside Marian, admiring the captured bow. The leaves rustled, birds sang, a lovely smell of growing things filled the warm air.
Rose and Ruth walked proudly beside Robin’s two friends, who had relieved them of their share of the capture. And they told the girls gaily how Robin, knowing very well the slippery ways of the sheriff, had prepared his little surprise.
“It isn’t the first time he has fooled his honour the sheriff, nor will it be the last. But he could hardly have got what he won so neatly had it not been for you and Maid Marian. Many a laugh he’ll get out of it.”
They came presently, still talking over the adventure, to a lovely glade in the forest where fires were burning and venison roasting before them. Long tables were set out under the trees, loaded with huge pasties and flagons of mead and wine, with mighty loaves and baskets of fruits, and all most handsome with glittering silver plate.
Here they were seated close to Robin himself, who saw to it that their plates were heaped with the delicious food. What an appetite every one had, and how the talk ran gaily on, with anecdote and jest, and many a word of praise for the three girls who had foiled the sheriff so neatly.
“We are being heroines, my dear,” said Rose to Ruth, and Marian added, “isn’t it nice?”
Just then Robin stood up, lifting his silver cup high.
“A toast, my merry men all,” he cried, “a toast to the three prettiest, bravest, coolest young maids in all Sherwood Forest.”