Then, kissing each lass
sweetly, he wished them all good den, and left them. But the maids stood
looking after him as he walked away whistling. "What a pity," quoth one,
"that such a stout, lusty lad should be in holy orders."
"Marry," quoth Little John to himself, as he strode along, "yon was no
such ill happening; Saint Dunstan send me more of the like."
After he had trudged along for a time he began to wax thirsty again in
the warmth of the day. He shook his leathern pottle beside his ear, but
not a sound came therefrom. Then he placed it to his lips and tilted it
high aloft, but not a drop was there. "Little John! Little John!" said
he sadly to himself, shaking his head the while, "woman will be thy ruin
yet, if thou dost not take better care of thyself."
But at last he reached the crest of a certain hill, and saw below a
sweet little thatched inn lying snugly in the dale beneath him, toward
which the road dipped sharply. At the sight of this, a voice within him
cried aloud, "I give thee joy, good friend, for yonder is thy heart's
delight, to wit, a sweet rest and a cup of brown beer.
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