“None else, friend Motley.”
“Why then, God keep thee! And now go about thy business.”
“Marry, Fool, I am about my business, the which is to find thee. By Saint Nick, there's mighty hue and cry for thee up and down within the greenwood, aye—marry is there, as I'm a tanner tried and true. So needs must thou along wi' me.”
“With thee, Tanner? And wherefore?”
“Why, I know not wherefore, Fool, but must along. Here's me and Lob and the potent hag that is Mopsa the Witch, lain a-watching and a-watching ye a-billing—nay, scowl not, friend Fool, on tanner trusty, tried and true. For hark now, here's great stir, clamour and to-do within this forest-country for thee, Fool, the which is strange, seeing thou art but a motley fool. Howbeit there be many great lords and knights from beyond the Southern March a-seeking of thee, Fool.”
“Ha!” quoth Jocelyn, frowning. “Envoys from Brocelaunde!”
“Alas, Joconde, and seeking thee!” saith Yolande in troubled voice.
“Moreover,” continued Will, “here's our Duke Pertinax and his lady Duchess yearning for thee, here's Robin that is Sir Robert a-clamouring for thee and all his goodly foresters, as myself, a-seeking thee.”
“But't is I found thee, Sir Long-legged Fool, I—I!” croaked a voice, and old Mopsa the Witch peered at them from a bush hard by.
“Verily, thou hast found us!” quoth Jocelyn ruefully. “And what now?”