"Truly, most holy father," said Little John, "I am more thankful than e'er I was in all my life before that our good friend Scarlet knew thee and thy dogs. I tell thee seriously that I felt my heart crumble away from me when I saw my shaft so miss its aim, and those great beasts of thine coming straight at me."
"Thou mayst indeed be thankful, friend," said the Friar gravely. "But, Master Will, how cometh it that thou dost now abide in Sherwood?"
"Why, Tuck, dost thou not know of my ill happening with my father's steward?" answered Scarlet.
"Yea, truly, yet I knew not that thou wert in hiding because of it. Marry, the times are all awry when a gentleman must lie hidden for so small a thing."
"But we are losing time," quoth Robin, "and I have yet to find that same Curtal Friar."
"Why, uncle, thou hast not far to go," said Will Scarlet, pointing to the Friar, "for there he stands beside thee."
"How?" quoth Robin, "art thou the man that I have been at such pains to seek all day, and have got such a ducking for?"
"Why, truly," said the Friar demurely, "some do call me the Curtal Friar of Fountain Dale; others again call me in jest the Abbot of Fountain Abbey; others still again call me simple Friar Tuck."
"I like the last name best," quoth Robin, "for it doth slip more glibly off the tongue. But why didst thou not tell me thou wert he I sought, instead of sending me searching for black moonbeams?"
"Why, truly, thou didst not ask me, good master," quoth stout Tuck; "but what didst thou desire of me?"