"Come on, Much! The tree's loaded with apples. Just pick one out, and hit it!"

The miller's son turned indignant wide blue eyes on his best friend, Robin of Locksley, who seemed to expect him to be able to plunge an arrow into the heart of an apple, hanging on a tree, with an autumn breeze picking up, just because he found it so easy to do! As if apples grew on trees just so they could be picked off by arrows! Unbelievable! If it wasn't Robin's tenth birthday, Much would dish him out a piece of his mind.

"Have you chosen one yet?" Robin asked impatiently.

Much huffed a reply. "The red one," he said at last.

"They're all red, Much!" Robin cried, exasperated.

"May I try?"

Both boys turned to see seven-year-old Maid Marian, standing behind them, dressed in a new gown of crushed plum colored velvet.

Seeing Robin's smile light up his face reminded Marian of the way the sun had streamed into her room this morning, when her nurse Edna had thrown open her shutters. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

"You're looking very pretty, Marian," Much told her. "I like your new dress. Doesn't she look pretty, Robin?"

Marian held her breath, hoping to hear Robin agree.

"You look like a Christmas pudding," he said, grinning. "In fact, just looking at you makes me hungry."

He laughed, not unkindly, finding her, as always, the prettiest girl he had ever seen, but Marian took offense.

"Happy birthday, Show Off," she responded back. "Your father's angry at you."

"Why?" Robin asked, handing her his bow and trying not to show he minded.

"You weren't home when my father and I arrived. He can't find you, so he's mad."

"My father's probably tearing his hair out, looking for me," Much commented. "Or, he would be, if he had any hair. Most of it's gone. You should see how shiney the top of his head gets, when he's working hard, and sweating! Oh! I'm sorry, Marian! Am I allowed to say 'sweating' in front of you? There's always so much to remember, when speaking to ladies!"

"It's alright, Much," Marian assured him. "You have very nice manners. Better than some people, who claim I look like a pudding!"

Robin laughed again, and handed her an arrow. "I like pudding," he said charmingly. Then, using his most polite and respectful tone, he asked, "Which apple do you want to aim for, Marian?"

She studied the tree and pointed to one hanging from a low branch, then inched closer, knowing she didn't stand a chance from the distance the boys stood.

She was determined to hit the apple and make Robin proud of her. Remembering everything he had taught her, she carefully planted her feet and slowly drew back the bowstring. It dug painfully into her fingertips, but she hid her discomfort, took a breath, and let her arrow fly. It dismally sailed under the branch, a good two feet from the apple, and landed on the grass.

"The wind dropped," Robin told her kindly.

She begged him for another try. "Let me have another shot, please."

"Only if you chose a different apple," Robin told her. "I want to save that one to give to Much's mother."

"If you're doing it to make my father not angry, it won't work," Much said, resigning himself to the feel of his father's belt stinging his backside. "But she'll like it anyway. She likes everything you bring her."

Robin swaggered, knowing it was true, and told Much, "I won't let your father hit you."

"You always try to stop him, with little luck," Much sighed.

"But today is my birthday!" Robin grinned. "The way I see it, we can stay out here all day, and not get punished."

Much smiled thanks to his friend, but worried all the same. "Marian won't get punished," he said. "Her father's nice."

"He'll be upset once he discovers I'm gone, too," she told the boys. "I snuck away, as soon as he wasn't looking. I knew I'd find you here."

She lined up her shot, and missed again. "One more try," she begged.

"It's alright, Marian," Robin told her, understanding how important it was for her to make the shot. "Take as many shots as you want. I'll bet you only need one more."

She turned grateful eyes on him, and they both felt that inexplicable sense of joy they often experienced when their eyes met. An enveloping warmth went through both of them, and they felt connected and happy as they never felt when apart.

Reluctantly, Marian turned her eyes away, nocked an arrow to Robin's bow, lined up her shot, and fired.

The arrow struck an apple, bringing it to the ground. Robin scooped up little Marian in his arms and swung her around and around. Both were laughing with excitement.

"Incredible!" Much cried. "Now can we leave?"

"Not until we gather enough apples to pass out to every family in Locksley," Robin told him.

"But Robin," Much cried, "this is your father's orchard!"

"All the more reason to share its apples with his people," Robin explained, climbing into the branches of a tree and tossing down apples.

Marian lifted her skirts and climbed up after him. "Catch, Much!' she cried.

"Fill up the basket, Much," Robin instructed, flinging apples to the ground. "We don't have time to dawdle. I've got to make it home before the Queen arrives."

"The Queen?" Much cried, in surprise.

"The Queen's not coming to your birthday," Marian said, thinking Robin must be joking.

Robin just grinned at her. "You'll see soon enough," he said with a wink. "Good thing you look so pretty. Her Majesty values Beauty."

Marian stood still, in the branches of the tree. Had her ears heard him correctly?

It was more amazing to her that he had told her she was pretty, than his claim that Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine was coming to his house to celebrate his birthday! She couldn't believe it! What a wonderful day!