"Oh, do you see that little river flowing through the meadows?" she suddenly cried, standing up to point at it excitedly. "See the reeds along its edges, the field of tall grain, and the old tree trunk which has fallen across the water! I just know that must be the place where Robin first met Little John. They had a fight on a narrow foot-bridge, you know, and Little John (who wasn't 'little' at all) was the stronger, and tumbled Robin Hood over into the brook. Don't you remember, John? That looks exactly like the picture in my Howard Pyle's 'Robin Hood,' at home. Oh, I'm perfectly sure it must be the same place! Aren't you, Mrs. Pitt?" This enthusiasm of Betty's was soon caught by the rest, and during the whole afternoon they took turns in telling, one after another, the "Merry Adventures of Robin Hood," as they recalled them. There could not be a section of country which more perfectly suggests the setting for that particular group of legends which has been associated with it. Here surely is the identical woodland through which Robin Hood and his merry men roamed. No one could possibly mistake it! Here are the very same trees, behind which one can almost see lurking the men in "Lincoln green." Here are ideal little glades carpeted with dainty ferns, here and there touched with the sunlight which flashes between the leaves. Sometimes the road emerges from the forest, and winds along through broad fields,--the "high road" bordered by green meadows and hedgerows. "You know," began Mrs. Pitt, her eyes sparkling with fun, "when Robin and his men had been in hiding for some days or weeks, perhaps, because the old Sheriff of Nottingham was trying particularly hard to catch them at the time, some of the most venturesome ones, not being able to exist longer under the restraint, would start off in search of adventure; and leaving a bit reluctantly the heart of Sherwood Forest, they always made straight for the 'high road.' Now in just such a place as this, by the cross-roads, Little John, garbed as a gray friar, met the three lasses who were carrying their eggs to the market at Tuxford. He swung one basket from his rosary, about his neck, and took one in either hand, and thus he accompanied the maids to town. Am I right? Is that the tale?"