"Robin, don't you think they're awfully young?"

Usually, Lady Locksley had no misgivings about her handsome husband's suggestions concerning their two little girls, but this time she was certain he was getting ahead of himself.

"It's never too early to learn about sacrifice, Marian."

"I know, but Ellen's only four, and Gracie's two. They don't need to give something up for Lent. I mean, forty days for them is an eternity."

"And that's why we'll make it a one time thing this year. It will get them thinking."

"Sometimes I worry Ellen thinks too much." Marian was still concerned for her oldest child who was kidnapped last year by Guy of Gisbourne when he'd returned from hiding in France, seeking revenge on Robin and herself.

"She is deep. But trust me, my love. I'll make it fun, I promise."

"Only you could make Lent fun, Robin."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' " he said, wearing the smile his wife loved best.

Hand in hand, they climbed the stairs and entered the children's nursery, on the top floor of their manor house.

Ellen and Grace raced to greet them. Robin swooped them up, one child under each arm.

"Higher! Higher!" Grace cried.

"That's high enough," their mother said.

The little family sat down together, with one little girl on each of Robin's knees. Marian took out the sewing she had brought with her, and began stitching tiny green bows on a new baby bonnet.

"Remember yesterday," Robin began, "when Mama and I came home from church?"

"Dutty face," Grace said, touching his forehead.

"That's right! Our faces were dirty. Father Joseph put ashes on us, to start a special time."

"What time, Daddy?" Ellen asked.

"It's called Lent. It's the time leading up to Easter."

"Went," Grace repeated.

"When the bunny comes?"

"Yes, El. And sometimes, while we're waiting for that bunny, we give up something we like very much."

"Why, Daddy?"

Robin appeared thoughtful, to better emphasize his point. "You know how Jesus gave up everything for us. So it's only fair we give up something, too, to remind us. Now, the hard part is thinking up something you'll miss, but nothing you can't do without."

"Like my poppet?" Ellen asked, her eyes wide.

"You don't need to give up your poppet, Precious," Marian assured her. "Robin, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Trust me! Now, Uncle Much, for instance, is giving up bread this year. Quite the sacrifice, but good for his expanding waistline. And Little John is giving up ale. Now, you might consider giving up honey at supper tonight, but it doesn't have to be food or drink. I'm giving up racing your mother on horseback."

"How can Mama win, if you don't race her?" Ellen asked.

Robin scoffed, then put Grace down, since she was wriggling so hard to be free. She climbed right into her mother's lap, and Marian put down the baby bonnet to snuggle with her youngest daughter. "I'm giving up racing, too," Marian said, "and for longer than Lent lasts. But it's a very good thing. You'll see."

"I know what I'll give up," Ellen decided. "Does it work if I say extra prayers instead, for Daddy and Mama and Gracie and Moonlight and all the horsies and Uncle Much and all the people of Locksley?"

"That is a lot of prayers," Robin told her, his face awash with paternal love. "But I think that sounds like a very good plan."

"It's your turn, Gracie," Ellen said, proudly.

"Maybe we should help her decide," Robin suggested. "How about...stop pulling Moonlight's tail?" Moonlight was the grey kitten Robin had brought home for his daughters when Gracie was ill, but who followed Marian everywhere.

"No," Grace insisted firmly. "I give up woos."

"Woos?" Marian asked. "What do you mean, Gracie? Robin, do you know what she's saying?"

"Woos!" Grace repeated, loudly. "No pull kitty's tail. No throw food. Go to bed NOW. Woos!"

Robin's laughter was so infectious, Marian couldn't help smiling.

"No, Gracie," Ellen said. "You can't give up rules!"

"Maybe just honey tonight at supper," Marian suggested. "What do you say to that, Gracie dear?"

"I say where be fun in dat?" Grace climbed off Marian's lap and stood, sturdy little legs planted wide apart. "We are Wobbin Hood!" she announced, in her deepest voice.