It was well for Robin Hood that that same forester's head was spinning with ale, or else he would never have taken another step.
Thou shalt eat sweet venison and quaff the stoutest ale, and mine own good right-hand man shalt thou be, for never did I see such a cudgel player in all my life before.
Then they all built great fires and after a time roasted the does and broached a barrel of humming ale. Then when the feast was ready they all sat down, but Robin placed Little John at his right hand, for he was henceforth to be the second in the band.
Then one came forward who had been chosen to play the priest because he had a bald crown, and in his hand he carried a brimming pot of ale. "Now, who bringeth this babe?" asked he right soberly.
When thou livedst not thou wast called John Little, but now that thou dost live indeed, Little John shalt thou be called, so christen I thee." And at these last words he emptied the pot of ale upon Little John's head.
Then all shouted with laughter as they saw the good brown ale stream over Little John's beard and trickle from his nose and chin, while his eyes blinked with the smart of it.
The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of
ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes.
John Pringle, director at Acton
Ales, said: "As those who have sampled our
ales at The Portland in Ashington or at The Office real
ale and cider house in Morpeth will be aware, all of our
ales are brewed with passion and care.
The club, founded in 1875, was persuaded to sell real
ale three years ago when some of their regular social members promised to finish a keg each week with no wastage.
