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Robin finished the last of his rolls and pushed the empty plate aside with a sigh of contentment. The cook certainly did have a knack for baking. He must remember to send his compliments.
A cheer went up in the Inn yard. "Fordogrim must have chosen a winner," Robin thought. "Best go and see what's happening." Even as he moved to open the door, it flew ajar with the suddenness of a summer thunderstorm, nearly colliding with Robin's nose!
"Careful now!" cried Robin. "No need to go about in a rush, knocking folk off their feet." For he had needed to step back when the door opened and almost fell over a chair close behind him. "What's all the excitement?"
"Goodness, but I'm sorry, Robin. You're not hurt?" came the breathless reply. Robin shook his head. Before he had a chance to answer, the words went on, "What a generous one that Fordogrim is! A right fine sort. I came to tell you. He gave a cask to all three champions. Stout for the lass, ale for the dwarf, and Gold for you. And, what's more, there's going to be a party tonight!"
Robin could hardly believe his good fortune. He lept into the air in delight. "Hurray for Fordogrim!" he shouted. "Hurray for the Green Dragon! Hurray!" And out to the yard he went to see about helping with preparations for the upcoming festivities.
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