"These are shepherds, excellence," answered Little John.
"Heaven have mercy! They seem more like to be robbers o' th' greenwood at first glance," said the priest.
"One must not judge on half-hearing or half-seeing, lording," retorted Little John.
"That is true, but I would question you further, good man. Tell me now who has killed this deer, and by what right?" His tones had passed insensibly to an arrogant note.
"Give me first your name, excellence, so that I may know I speak where 'tis fitting," said Little John, stubbornly.
"This is my lord the Bishop of Hereford, fellow," said one of the guards, fiercely. "Keep a civil tongue in your head, or 'twill surely be bad for you!"
Robin now came forward. "My lord," said he, bowing his curly head before the Bishop, "I did hear your questions, and will answer them in all truth. We are but simple shepherds, and tend our flocks year in and year out about the forest of Sherwood, but, this being our holiday, we thought there would be small harm in holding it upon one of the King's deer, since there are so many."
"You are saucy fellows, in sooth," cried the Bishop, "and the King shall know of your doings. Quit your roast, and come with me, for I will bring you to the Sheriff of Nottingham forthwith! Seize this knave, men, and bind his hands."
"Your pardon, excellence——"
"No pardon shall you have of me, rascal!" snapped the stout Bishop. "Seize him, my men!"