Marian sat near and was listening intently.
“I am called Rob the Stroller, my Lord Sheriff,” said the archer.
Marian leaned back and smiled.
“Well, Rob the Stroller, with a little attention to your skin and clothes you would not be so bad a man,” said the Sheriff. “How like you the idea of entering my service.
“Rob the Stroller has ever been a free man, my Lord, and desires no service.”
The Sheriff’s brow darkened, yet for the sake of his daughter and the golden arrow, he dissembled.
“Rob the Stroller,” said he, “here is the golden arrow which has been offered to the best of archers this day. You are awarded the prize. See that you bestow it worthily.”
At this point the herald nudged Rob and half inclined his head toward the Sheriff’s daughter, who sat with a thin smile upon her lips. But Rob heeded him not. He took the arrow and strode to the next box where sat Maid Marian.
“Lady,” he said, “pray accept this little pledge from a poor stroller who would devote the best shafts in his quiver to serve you.”
“My thanks to you, Rob in the Hood,” replied she with a roguish twinkle in her eye; and she placed the gleaming arrow in her hair, while the people shouted, “The Queen! the Queen!”