It was a right motley company that gathered about the noble greenwood tree in Sherwood’s depths that same day. A score and more of barefoot friars were there, and some that looked like tinkers, and some that seemed to be sturdy beggars and rustic hinds; and seated upon a mossy couch was one all clad in tattered scarlet, with a patch over one eye; and in his hand he held the golden arrow that was the prize of the great shooting match. Then, amidst a noise of talking and laughter, he took the patch from off his eye and stripped away the scarlet rags from off his body and showed himself all clothed in fair Lincoln green; and quoth he, “Easy come these things away, but walnut stain cometh not so speedily from yellow hair.” Then all laughed louder than before, for it was Robin Hood himself that had won the prize from the Sheriff’s very hands.
Then all sat down to the woodland feast and talked among themselves of the merry jest that had been played upon the Sheriff, and of the adventures that had befallen each member of the band in his disguise. But when the feast was done, Robin Hood took Little John apart and said, “Truly am I vexed in my blood, for I heard the Sheriff say today, ‘Thou shootest better than that coward knave Robin Hood, that dared not show his face here this day.’ I would fain let him know who it was who won the golden arrow from out his hand, and also that I am no coward such as he takes me to be.”