“How’s that?” said a brisk young fellow, dressed in a green cassock embroidered with gold, and having at his heels a stout lad bearing a harp upon his back, which betrayed his vocation. The Minstrel seemed of no vulgar rank; for, besides the splendour of his gaily braidered doublet, he wore around his neck a silver chain, by which hung the wrest, or key, with which he tuned his harp. On his right arm was a silver plate, which, instead of bearing, as usual, the cognizance or badge of the baron to whose family he belonged, had barely the word Sherwood engraved upon it.⁠—“How mean you by that?” said the gay Minstrel, mingling in the conversation of the peasants; “I came to seek one subject for my rhyme, and, by’r Lady, I were glad to find two.”

“It is well avouched,” said the elder peasant, “that after Athelstane of Coningsburgh had been dead four weeks⁠—”

“That is impossible,” said the Minstrel; “I saw him in life at the Passage of Arms at Ashby-de-la-Zouche .”