"There you are, you good for nothing! Trying to get out of work, again!"

The miller of Locksley grabbed his frightened son by the ear and began pulling him toward their humble cottage.

"Stop!" Robin of Locksley's voice piped up with a surprising tone of command for one so young. "Let Much go, now!"

The miller immediately released his son, who stood by, rubbing his sore ear.

"Master Robin," the miller said respectfully, "I don't want to hurt my boy. It's only, there's work to be done, and he runs off, to get out of it. He's not so young he shouldn't pull his weight. I've got a family to feed, and he's always wanting more than his fair share of that, while shirking his duties to run off and play with you!"

"Pull my ear, then," Robin said angrily. "I'm the one who came and got him. Go on, pull it!"

Robin, Much, and Marian had returned to the village of Locksley and had been going from cottage to cottage, distributing the apples they had gathered, with Robin basking in everyone's well wishes and hugs for his birthday, when Much's father had found them. Marian stood by Robin's side now, watching everything.

In spite of the fresh autumn chill in the air, the miller wiped sweat from the top of his bald head. "I could never lay a hand on you, Master Robin," the miller said. "That hand would be forfeit, were I to do so."

The miller's wide blue eyes looked so worried, and so similar to his son's, Robin felt his anger wash away. "Well," he said, more calmly, "try to think of Much as me, next time you want to lay so much as a finger on him. He's a hard worker, I swear he is! What did he miss, anyway? An hour of work?"

"More near two hours of good daylight," the miller answered, embarrassed by Lord Locksley's heir asking him to compare his son, who was never much, hence his name, to his own glorious self! The boy had the strangest, most lofty ideas, but they were completely impractical.

"You can't eat clouds, Master Robin," the miller said. "Please stop trying to fill Much's head with them."

Robin set his chin as a determined look sprang to his eyes. He turned and faced Marian. "What do you want to do?" he asked her. "Much and I owe the good miller here an hour each of our labor. Do you want to come along and help, or go back to my house and wait for me?"

"I want to help, too," Marian said earnestly, bringing Robin's sunny smile back to his face.

"There!" Robin grinned. "You get three workers today, instead of one!" He began rolling up his sleeves, while all his serfs smiled and chuckled and grinned at each other, over young Master Robin's willingness to do a commoner's work.

Much held his breath. Would Robin really come help him? And little Marian, too? This was wonderful! Incredible! Unbelievable! But his father probably wouldn't allow it.

Much was correct. His father objected.

"Master Robin," he said, flabbergasted, "you cannot come to the mill and dirty your hands with our labor! You just can't!"

"Why not? The longer we stand out here arguing, the more daylight we're losing! We'll never make up the time Much missed, at this rate!"

"But, Master Robin-"

"No buts," Robin said. "It's my birthday, and I want to help. So, what do we do?"

The miller could see how determined the young noble was. He sighed, wiped his brow, and said resignedly, "Very well. But if the Earl wants to punish me, I hope you can be as convincing to him as you were to me."

"No need to worry," Robin grinned, "my father will never know! Come on!" He grabbed Marian by her hand, and took off running toward the mill. Much followed, a skip in his step. The miller trudged along behind them, worried out of his mind.

...