In the budding hedges the little birds twittered merrily, and on
either hand the green hills swept up to the sky, the great white clouds
of springtime sailing slowly over their crowns in lazy flight. Up hill
and down dale walked Little John, the fresh wind blowing in his face and
his robes fluttering behind him, and so at last he came to a crossroad
that led to Tuxford. Here he met three pretty lasses, each bearing a
basket of eggs to market. Quoth he, "Whither away, fair maids?" And he
stood in their path, holding his staff in front of them, to stop them.
Then they huddled together and nudged one another, and one presently
spake up and said, "We are going to the Tuxford market, holy friar, to
sell our eggs."
"Now out upon it!" quoth Little John, looking upon them with his head on
one side. "Surely, it is a pity that such fair lasses should be forced
to carry eggs to market. Let me tell you, an I had the shaping of things
in this world, ye should all three have been clothed in the finest
silks, and ride upon milk-white horses, with pages at your side, and
feed upon nothing but whipped cream and strawberries; for such a life
would surely befit your looks.
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