"Give me back my tin of biscuits, I tell you! You've pinched my cakes, chocolates, apples, bananas, everything. Cads, thieves, pirates!"
"Peace, thou scurvy knave! Dost dare to speak slightingly of the great Robin Hood and his Merry Men? Have a care, thou pestiferous Squirm, lest I order thy foul tongue to be torn from its roots by red-hot pincers."
"Oh, stop your high-falutin' rot and give me back my grub. If you don't——"
"Well, caitiff, what then?"
"As sure as my name's Peter Mawdster I'll report the whole boiling of you to the Captain of the School!"
"Yah! Sneak! Hound! Soapless Squirm! Down with him, Merry Men! Slug the crawling viper!"
"Hold, Merry Men!" It was the shrill voice of Robin, raised high in command. "Soil not your honest hands with the watery blood of this rapscallion. Spread yourselves around, so that there may be no escape for him from the depths of this noble Forest. I would have speech with him—words of serious import indeed!"
Hugely enjoying the sport, the Merry Men drew round Peter Mawdster a cordon that it would have been hopeless to attempt to break.
"Now, Mawdster, black-handed imp of the printing press, slimiest of Squirms," began Robin, "venture to ope thy sloppy mouth during this speech o' mine, and my trusty fellows shall immediately stuff it full of holly leaves and clay, which will please thee less than the greasy provender which has made thee fat and scant of breath. Know now the two charges that are laid against thee—firstly, that thou didst carry to school a disgustingly hoggish hoard of costly viands, which, rather than share with thy dormitory in the time-honoured Foxenby fashion, thou didst bring into the Shrubbery and endeavour to conceal there, like a dirty overfed dog with a surplus bone."
"I didn't!" denied Peter. "If you'd only waited I was going to ask everybody to share."