The Indians had brought the white children for a characteristic reason.
They had said among themselves, "If the white father and mother love us as
they say they do we will test them by taking away their children without
asking permission." They also wished to show their own love for the
children, and so had really brought them to a children's feast.

It was perhaps as queer a tea party as you ever heard of. There was no
table on which to put the good things prepared for the feast. No plates, no
cups and saucers, no knives, no spoons, not even a chair! There were no
cakes, no tarts, no jam, no pies, not even any bread and butter!

"Well, what a feast!" you say. "Without any place to sit, or good things to
eat!" Not too fast! There were both of these. There was the lap of mother
earth, and so down on the ground, with bearskins and deerskins on it for
rugs, the children sat. Then the deerskin door was again opened and in came
Indians with birch-bark dishes, called _rogans_, in which were nicely
prepared wild ducks, rabbits, and partridges. But as they were uncooked
they could not yet be eaten by the now expectant, hungry children.

Then began the preparation of the feast. Some of the Indians added dry wood
to the fire until there was a hot, smokeless blaze. Others took out their
sharp hunting knives and cleverly cut up the ducks, rabbits, and
partridges. Then these pieces were spitted on the ends of sharp points of
hard wood and skillfully broiled or toasted in the hot flames. As fast as
the dainty bits of meat were cooked and a little cooled they were given to
the children in their fingers, and in that way the little ones had their
feast.

Now, please don't turn up your noses at such a feast. Think of it: out in a
wigwam in the lovely forest, where the wild birds sing and the squirrels