"Later on, old chap," Robin told him, putting the picture in his pocket-book. "Time's scarce now. Here's the Miller with his butterflies. More R.A.'s than authors amongst the Merry Men, evidently."
The Miller's butterflies washed out the rainbow in vivid colouring. They were having a glorious feed in a wonderful garden, the only flaw wherein was that daffodils, roses, hollyhocks and chrysanthemums were all blooming simultaneously. Another minor detail was that some of the butterflies seemed as big as crows, altogether dwarfing the flowers. It was, indeed, a scene of tropical splendour!
"Bravo!" cried Robin, heaving a sigh of relief. "This'll do O.K."
The earlier contributors, with the exception of Allan a Dale, shot a jealous glance at the Miller, grudging him Robin's praise. All unconsciously their leader had deeply wounded their pride.
Too anxiously occupied with his editorial duties to notice the clouds that were gathering, Robin turned next to David of Doncaster, whose contribution proved rather a shocker. It was called "Celebrated Executions—written and illustrated by David Storm."
"I say, Dave, what a hang-dog ruffian you are!" Robin exclaimed, trying to hide his dismay under a laugh. "This makes milk-and-water of the Chamber of Horrors. Charles the First, Anne Boleyn, Sir Walter Raleigh, Lady Jane Grey—heads flying about like tennis balls. As for the hangings, they're positively gruesome. Charles Peace, Palmer the Poisoner, Neil Cream, Mrs. Dyer, and nine or ten more of 'em on the gallows—I shan't sleep to-night if I look at this much longer."
"Won't you put it in, then, Robin?" asked Dave anxiously.
"Oh, rather, Dave!" Robin said. "It shall face the Tinker's frisky Zoo. That'll be a foil for it. Any other gentleman obliging with a contribution before the tea-bell rings?"
There was a slight pause, and then another Merry Man, known to the band as The Tanner, timidly handed in a written attempt.
"Oh, a short story," Robin commented. "That's a change from verse and pictures, anyhow."