So each put on the other fellow's clothes, and Robin gave the honest Cobbler ten bright new shillings.

Quoth merry Robin, "I ha' been a many things in my life before, but never have I been an honest cobbler.

Come, friend, let us fall to and eat, for something within me cackles aloud for that good fat capon." So both sat down and began to feast right lustily, so that when they were done the bones of the capon were picked as bare as charity.
Then Robin stretched his legs out with a sweet feeling of comfort within him.

Quoth he, "By the turn of thy voice, good Quince, I know that thou hast a fair song or two running loose in thy head like colts in a meadow.

I prythee, turn one of them out for me." "A song or two I ha'," quoth the Cobbler, "poor things, poor things, but such as they are thou art welcome to one of them." So, moistening his throat with a swallow of beer, he sang: "_Of all the joys, the best I love, Sing hey my frisking Nan, O, And that which most my soul doth move, It is the clinking can, O.
"All other bliss I'd throw away, Sing hey my frisking Nan, O, But this_--" The stout Cobbler got no further in his song, for of a sudden six horsemen burst upon them where they sat, and seized roughly upon the honest craftsman, hauling him to his feet, and nearly plucking the clothes from him as they did so.