Rose was carolling :  
“Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat—
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.”
Ruth joined at the last line.
 
“I never can remember the other verse,” she said, as Rose too fell silent. “It is always the first verse that’s easy, isn’t it?”
 
And then began the airiest, fairiest singing ever a child listened to. Have you ever seen the spiderwebs stretched across the grass-blades in the early morning, all ashine with tiniest dew-drops? Well, if they were turned into music, they would probably sound like the singing Rose and Ruth heard:
 
“Who doth ambition
And loves to live i’ the sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets—
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.”
“Oh, Fairy, Fairy Honeysqueak,” they breathed, when the loveliness of it ended.
 
“That was right, wasn’t it, every word?” asked the fairy briskly.
 
“Think of your knowing Shakespeare’s song.”
 
“Why shouldn’t I? He loved fairies, and did a great deal to make us known. He is a prime favourite with us all.”
 
“How wonderful. Did he ever see any of you?”
 
“Probably. I never met him myself, however. I was rather new then, and not going about a great deal. I’d recently come from the moon; you know many of us come from there; and I hadn’t quite got the hang of things here yet. But talking about greenwood trees, why don’t you girls let me take you to visit Maid Marian? She lives in Sherwood Forest, and you’ll probably meet , and may see some of the real greenwood life. You know, after all, there’s nothing else quite as good, or so we fairies think.”
 
Nothing could seem better than such an invitation, and Rose and Ruth were delighted.
 
“What luck, my singing that song! But I wish we could hear you sing some more, Fairy Honeysqueak.”
 
Honeysqueak laughed. “You absurd child, I 147haven’t any real voice at all. My companions make fun of me every time I try to train any young Hylas or grass-hopper for the spring music. But I’m a good teacher, voice or no voice, they have to admit that. But let’s be running along, dears, Marian is expecting you.”
 
They reached their two hands towards the voice the Fairy had been , felt her own slip into their clasp, then that tiny sinking feeling and little shock ... and there they were!
 
They found themselves seated on a wooden bench, their backs up against the wall of a house, in front of them what looked like a public square, crowded with a merry in the garments of stage folk. The upper story of the house against which their bench was placed projected so as to make a pleasant shade, and between the moving throng they caught glimpses of a green on which games seemed to be in progress, while a group near them to the right was collected in front of a punch and judy show, the squeaky voices of the actors sounding funnily distinct above the general .
 
“I’m so glad you could get here for the Fair,” said a young girl who was seated beside Rose, “and how fortunate we are to have so brave a day for it. Have you ever seen the wrestlers and the single stick exercises?” She nearer and whispered:
 
“It is almost certain that bold Robin and some of his merry will come for a trial with 148these village gabies—and then we shall see what we shall see.”
 
A bonny-looking girl she was, with a fair English skin and pale gold hair worn in heavy plaits that reached below her waist. She was dressed in a rose-coloured bodice and overskirt, draped over a flowered petticoat, and her shoes had high red heels. She wore no hat, but the sun seemed to have no effect on her fairness. Her eyes were almost black, a strange contrast, and were laughing and in expression.
 
“So you are Maid Marian?” Rose stated, rather than asked. Ruth was lost in the puppet show, having got up to go a little closer, and Rose could see her grinning broadly at the Punch was uttering.
 
“See your sister, quite taken with the show,” returned Marian. “They are funny little creatures, to be sure. But let us push our way nearer the common, and so get a look at the lads there.”
 
They rose and, in Ruth, who didn’t want to leave the drama till Maid Marian whispered that Robin might arrive at any minute, and once he did they would never be able to get within sight of the cont
It was a gay sight. Two stakes, from which fluttered many coloured streamers, were set up at either end of a broad stretch of greensward. On this several young men were engaged in trials of strength. Just opposite the girls a handsome young fellow, tall and active, as a cat, was exchanging rapid blows with a shorter, thickset man, who was none the less extremely . Their weapons were staves, and the way they went at each other was most thrilling. Shouts greeted their efforts, and from the applause and laughter when either man got in a good stroke, it was easy to see that both had plenty of friends.
 
Not far distant two other lads were wrestling, struggling on the ground, breathing heavily as they and strove together. There were others besides these, but too far off to engage the girls’ attention.
 
“Ho-ho! well struck, Tom,” roared a fat man beside Rose, as one of the two who were having the at single sticks delivered a thwack on his opponent’s leather cap. “, but the boy is a wonder. He’ll win, I’ll my best on it. Saw ye that now ... lay on, Tom; ye’ll have him on his knees to you.”
 
Tom was the shorter of the two young men, and though he had got in a good blow or two, it did not look as though he had the best of his . That young man fought on with a smile, and springing about, and presently he came down hard on Tom’s cap, so hard that the young fellow reeled.
 
“Where’s your Tom now!” shouted another man, the fat gentleman on the back. 150“And the calf? Will ye wager the calf now!” A chorus of laughs and shouts greeted this , but the fat man was no disturbed.
 
“It wouldn’t be easy for thee to wager a calf, Ned, unless it were one of those you carry about with you,” he retorted.
 
At this moment there was a at the further end of the common. Men crowded , surging across the grass and being pushed back again. And then three men clad in Lincoln green, with long bows in their hands, broke through the fringe of people and strode out into the open.
 
Marian gripped the arms of her two friends.
 
“’Tis Robin Hood himself,” she whispered. “The one in the centre, with the long feather in his cap. The two with him I know not.”
 
A group of men surrounded the three new arrivals, discussing something of interest, for there was much waving of arms and loud speech. Presently a burst of laughter broke from the , and the group drew away, leaving Robin and his companions alone.
 
“A match, a match!” yelled the crowd, enthusiastically.
 
“What are they so excited about?” asked Ruth of Maid Marian.
 
“They want a shooting match with the long bow and broad arrow, but the sheriff and his assistants are to grant it, since they know Robin is sure to win, and the sheriff hath a son whom he would fain see carry away the fine prize offered.”
 
“But if they don’t hold the match he couldn’t win it, either, could he?”
 
“Once Robin has gone, thinking there is to be no match, the shooting would soon begin,” laughed Marian. “But Robin will not go ... not he.”
 
To be sure, what with the expostulations of the crowd and the fact that Robin and his men sat themselves down on the grass composedly to wait, the sheriff yielded.
 
“Since ye wish it,” he called, “the match will be held. Listen to the rules, and see ye mark them well.”
 
cheering answered him.
 
“Oh, what fun,” exclaimed Rose. “Let’s get where we can see him.”
 
But they were already in an excellent position, thanks to Marian. The rest of the busy on the common had all cleared off, including the two young men who had belaboured each other so with sticks. They were now chatting together, while they pulled on their leather jerkins, in the most manner, while the fat man looked on with a goodnatured grin.
 
Several men were employed setting up the target at one end of the field, others were drawing a white line on the grass at the opposite end. The spectators arranged themselves in two long lines, those in front sitting or reclining on the grass, and every one in the merriest of spirits.
 
It was an unforgettable sight, that many-coloured, picturesque throng of men and women and 152children, all so eagerly interested. Little family parties sat together, half-grown boys raced in and out, somehow getting through the close-packed rows, older men pressed together, discussing distances and records. At the end near the white line Robin Hood and his men lounged, chatting, leaning on their long bows, observed by every one. Several others with bows began to collect near them, one whom the Maid out as the sheriff’s son. He was a jolly-looking lad of about eighteen, with a shock of red hair.
 
“He can shoot well,” she told the two girls, “and were it not for Robin might win the prize. You can see it there, a bow of the finest , mounted in silver, as is the quiver with its twelve fine arrows.”
 
She indicated a pavilion near them, where the bow with several other prizes was displayed. And now the first to shoot stepped into position.
 
He was a stout, man, and wasted no time in preliminaries, but fitting an arrow to his string, he drew it to the head and let go. It grazed the target, sinking into the large shield that had been behind it.
 
Others stepped up, some doing worse, some better. Then the sheriff’s son took his turn. He carefully adjusted his arrow, waited an instant, and let fly.
 
A cheer went up. The arrow was within two rings of the center.
 
“Almost a bull’s-eye, Will,” shouted two or 153three, encouragingly, and the youngster smiled as h............