"You sing a sad song," said Robin; "and I, who am happy, am put out of countenance by it. Therefore sing it not until I am far from you."
"My heart overflows with sorrow," said the minstrel, "and so I must sing of sadness and of death."
"Tell me your sorrow, friend," Robin begged, "and walk with me back upon the road. Like as not I can help you."
"I should not speak my grief to you," the minstrel told him, "for you are happy."
"One who lives in the greenwood cannot be otherwise," observed Robin. "Come, walk with me, and coil the rope."
"I had brought it," said the minstrel, "so that I might hang myself to some old oak, and thus fittingly end the wretched, misfortunate life of Allan-a-Dale."
Robin perceived that there was a story to follow. "Walk with me, gossip, and ease your heart in confidence," he said, cheerfully. "I can likely help you. To-day is my lucky day."
"Know then, happy stranger, that I have lost my dear, and through no fault of mine own," said Allan-a-Dale, as they walked together. "A wealthy baron has taken my love from me, and will marry her this very day; so I have come into these quiet woods that I may kill myself, for never can I live without my Fennel."
"Is that her name? 'Tis very quaint."
"'Tis a fitting name, gossip. Fennel means 'Worthy of all praise,' and she is the most worthy of all maids."