"Some wigwam this, isn't it, Wonata?" said Helen, smiling, as the girls
went upstairs after dinner to prepare for the theatre.

"The Osage nation does not live in wigwams, Miss Cameron," said Wonota
quietly. "We are not blanket Indians and have not been for two
generations."

"Well, look at the clothes you wore in that show!" cried Jennie. "That
head-dress looked wild enough, I must say--and those fringed leggings
and all that."

Wonota smiled rather grimly. "The white people expect to see Indians in
their national costumes. Otherwise it would be no novelty, would it?
Why, some of the girls--Osage girls of pure blood too--at Three Rivers
Station wear garments that are quite up to date. You must not forget
that at least we have the catalogs from the city stores to choose from,
even if we do not actually get to the cities to shop."

"Printer's ink! It is a great thing," admitted Helen. "I don't suppose
there are really any wild Indians left."

The four girls and Aunt Kate were whisked in a big limousine to the
play, and Wonota enjoyed the brilliant spectacle and the music as much
as any of the white girls.

"Believe me," whispered Jennie to Ruth, "give any kind of girl a chance
to dress up and go to places like this, and see other girls all fussed
up, as your Tommy says--"

"Helen's Tommy, you mean," interposed Ruth.