The meal was at length served, the stew poured into wooden bowls; no spoons or forks were provided. The fingers and the lips had to do their work unaided, in that day, at least in the huts of the peasantry. Bread, or rather baked corn cakes, were produced; herbs floated in the soup for flavouring; vegetables, properly so called, were there none. Many a time had our travellers partaken of rougher fare in their campaigns, and they were well content with their food; so they ate contentedly with good appetite. The wind howled without, the snow found its way in through divers apertures, but the warmth of the central fire filled the hovel. Their hosts produced a decoction of honey, called mead, of which a little went a long way, and soon they were all quite convivial. “Canst thou not sing a song, Stephen, like a gallant troubadour from the land of the sunny south, to reward our hosts for their entertainment?” And Stephen sang one of the touching amatory ballads which had emanated so copiously from the unfortunate Albigenses of the land of Oc. The sweet soft sounds charmed, although the hosts understood not their meaning. “And now, my lad, have not thy parents taught thee a song?” said the knight, addressing the boy. “Sing thy song of the Greenwood, Martin,” added the mother. And the boy sang, with a sweet and child-like accent, a song of the exploits of the famous Robin Hood and Little John: Come listen to me, ye gallants so free, All you that love mirth for to hear; And I will tell, of what befell, To a bold outlaw, in Nottinghamshire. As Robin Hood, in the forest stood, Beneath the shade of the greenwood tree, He the presence did scan, of a fine young man, As fine as ever a jay might be. Abroad he spread a cloak of red, A cloak of scarlet fine and gay, Again and again, he frisked over the plain, And merrily chanted a roundelay. The ballad went on to tell how next day Robin saw this fine bird, whose name was Allan-a-dale, with his feathers all moultered; because his bonnie love had been snatched from him and was about to be wed to a wizened old knight, at a neighbouring church, against her will. And then how Robin Hood and Little John, and twenty-four of their merrie men, stopped the ceremony, and Little John, assuming the Bishop’s robe, married the fair bride to Allan-a-dale, who thereupon became their man and took to an outlaw’s life with his bonny wife. “Well sung, my lad, but when thou shalt marry, I wish thee a better priest than Little John; here is a guerdon for thee, a rose noble; some day thou wilt be a famous minstrel. “And now, my Stephen, let us sleep, if our good hosts will permit.” “There is a hut hard by, such as we all use, which I have devoted to your service; clean straw and thick coverlets of skins, warriors will hardly ask more.” “It was but an hour since I thought the heath would have been our couch, and a snowball our pillow; we shall be well content.”